Cold and Dark
by Kelaiah
Summary: A frail pine marten, a sinister wildcat, a haunted otter, a conniving fox... This is their story.
1. Cold and Dark

**Chapter 1**

Prince Dernwyn sat on his knees before the deathbed of his brother, Kirin.

The room was cold and dark, the air frigid and bitter. There was very little light in the room. The door was wide open, allowing a pale light to illuminate the young pine marten kneeling before the bed, holding his older brother's big, scarred paw in his own small thin one.

Tears poured forth from Dernwyn's eyes as he lamented Kirin's untimely death, nearly blinding him from gazing upon his beloved brother's face. For so long Prince Kirin had been a tall, strong, healthy, energetic pine marten. Dernwyn had always greatly admired his big brother's talent in the art of fighting and war, even though he never admitted to it. The younger marten had always thought that no living creature could defeat his brother in combat. To him, Kirin was the greatest.

Which was why it was almost impossible to believe that Kirin had been slain while leading an army against an enemy horde. The slaughter was great; far too many corpses to tell which side won. But none of that mattered to Dernwyn. All that mattered was that Kirin... his big brother... _Kirin_, the greatest warrior of all time... was _dead._ Dead because of some stupid war that some stupid horde had waged against them.

When no messengers had come back with news of the battle, Dernwyn's father, Orrik, sent out some trackers to see what had taken place. And when they brought back Kirin's body, covered all in mud, blood, and deep gashes, with his tail cut off, Dernwyn at first wouldn't believe it was his own brother. It was too surreal to be happening, for Kirin looked like he had been murdered the exact same way their mother had...

Dernwyn quickly pushed aside those memories as he stared down at his brother's face. Once it had been a handsome face, with sleek, silky fur of a rich chestnut brown, but his throat and ears were a creamy yellow. His whiskers had had a natural curl to them - oh, how Dernwyn envied his brother those whiskers! And his eyes... his beautiful eyes like two glittering jewels of the darkest blue. Now the face was pale and cold; blood-stained and ugly; the once-sparkling eyes closed, never to look at Dernwyn again.

The young marten closed his own eyes, remembering how in life his brother's face always seemed to be smiling, to be laughing. He was always there for his little brother, _always_. Always there to make Dernwyn smile, to protect his little brother, to put his powerful arms around him in a hug, his strong paw gently, ever so gently, wiping away his tears.

And Dernwyn hadn't appreciated it. As much as he loved and admired his brother, he was always jealous and resentful of how perfect Kirin was. When he should have been returning his brother's love and support, he instead tried to push him away, quarreled with him, said the meanest, most hurtful things that he could think of... and yet Kirin still kept on holding him, always smiling, always making Dernwyn forget his anger and smile as well... always wiping away all tears.

But he would never wipe away his brother's tears again.

Shivering, the young marten pulled his linen robes closer to his gaunt body, his bony paws shaking a little. He had never been strong, like his brother. He was a thin, frail creature, who always needed to be clothed in several layers of robes to keep himself from getting a fever.

In the past, Dernwyn was always getting colds. So much that everybeast thought that it was he who would die at an early age. But it was Kirin... strong, mighty, stout, powerful Kirin who died an early death.

Dernwyn lifted his brother's once-strong paw, the paw that once wiped away his every tear, and kissed it, wishing with all his heart that this was all just a dream. Just some terrible nightmare, and that he would wake up soon, and he would find Kirin, alive and well. And he would make it up to his brother; he would never be cruel to him again, he would never start another petty argument, he would be so good to his brother...

But it wasn't a dream. This was real...

Dernwyn's ears perked at the sound of a step from the doorway.

For a moment there was utter silence. Then a voice which the young marten hated and feared spoke, feigning surprise and remorse.

"Oh, is he dead? He probably passed on to Dark Forest not too long ago."

It was Zurzak, his father's advisor; a wildcat.

Ever since he had been a small babe, Dernwyn greatly feared the wildcat. The weird, striped tawny coat; the sharp, dangerous claws; the amber fangs; all of these things about Zurzak terrified Dernwyn. But what really made the young marten's blood turn to ice was the wildcat's blazing yellow-green eyes with those strange, slitted pupils, and his voice.

That voice was so soulless and cold... and it was coming closer.

"What a pity for one so young and healthy and noble to meet with a most untimely end... and such a horrid, gruesome end."

Dernwyn felt his shoulders stiffen. Dread filled him as the voice came closer. He remembered that Kirin, before he died, had warned his little brother about being near Zurzak, that he must keep as far from him as possible.

The young marten suddenly realized that the voice was right beside him.

"I understand that your brother's death is very difficult for you... especially since your father blames you for it."

As the wildcat spoke, Dernwyn slowly turned his head just in time to see that the wildcat's claws were reaching out for him.

_"Don't touch me!" _the young marten screamed, jumping up and away from Zurzak.

The wildcat stared at Dernwyn. The room became deathly quiet... save for the hard breathing of the young marten, who tried to control himself, as was befitting for a prince. As he glared as regally as he could at the big cat before him, Zurzak slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, adjusting his long, dark robes, smiling with false gentleness.

"There, there, I know how you feel," he said softly. "Your brother was the only friend you ever had. Ever since you were little more than a babe, when they found you beside the remains of your mother out in the forest, you didn't know how to speak to other creatures. You didn't know how to communicate your thoughts, your feelings. Everybeast thought that you were strange... and you knew it, too. But your brother, he didn't think that you were strange in the least bit. He was your friend and protector. He shielded you from all criticism, from all danger. And now..."

The cat began to lean toward Kirin's body. Dernwyn's eyes widened as he saw the dangerous claws were just beginning to reach for his brother's face.

"...now he is dead," whispered Zurzak.

Dernwyn hurried over and stretched out his arm to guard his brother's face. His voice was shrill and panic-stricken. "Don't. You. _Touch him-"_

The wildcat's clawed paw, which at first had been slowly moving toward Kirin's face, now shot forward and seized Dernwyn's wrist.

Dernwyn gave a little shriek of shock and terror.

_Touching me, he's TOUCHING ME-_

The young marten tried to pull himself free, but the wildcat had a death-grip on his slight wrist. Dernwyn struggled and twisted his arm.

"Let go! _Lemme go! Lemme go!"_ he cried, trying to sound angry and indignant, and almost succeeding; but he could not hide the fear in his voice.

Zurzak stood up, towering above the frightened marten, still holding onto his thin wrist. Dernwyn pulled and strained and yanked on his arm, but the wildcat never moved from his spot... and he never let go of the young marten's paw.

Dernwyn reached out with his other paw to try to pull his wrist free. _"Lemme go! Lemme go!"_

Zurzak's other clawed paw shot out and grabbed the young marten's wrist.

Dernwyn screamed in horror and alarm. The death of his brother mingled with the surprise attack of this horrific monster was so overwhelming that the young marten practically lost his head. He was soon struggling wildly and pulling his arms, desperately trying to break free. But the grip of the wildcat's was so strong and firm that after awhile the marten's paws numbed.

_"Lemme go! Lemme go!" _Dernwyn's voice was now frightened and shrill. The creature whom he had feared for so long, whom he had never been within ten feet of, was now relentlessly gripping his wrists, as though he would never let go.

_"Lemme gooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo!"_ Dernwyn begged, starting to cry. Tears poured down his face. _"Pleeee-hee-hee-hee-heease!"_

And Zurzak let go.

Dernwyn fell to the ground, his feet getting caught in his robes. He did not bother to disentangle himself, however. He just laid there where he landed, all curled up and whimpering. The young marten sobbed and cried, all huddled up on the floor.

When he could weep no more, Dernwyn wiped his eyes and slowly looked up at Zurzak. The wildcat calmly returned his gaze as though he had not just given the young prince the fright of his life.

"There now," said Zurzak in a soft tone. He took a step toward the young marten sprawling before him. Dernwyn quickly crawled away on his back, till he bumped into a dresser. Using it as support, the young marten struggled to his feet.

Zurzak continued on without seeming to regard Dernwyn's actions. He only watched the young marten's face.

"I know that your brother would have killed me if he were alive right now," he said calmly. "He never allowed me to come near you. He never allowed anybeast to come near you. He was always so protective of you. He loved and cared for you, very much. Even when you scorned his affection he still kept on loving you. He was the only creature that held you in any great worth. Not like your father. He wishes that Kirin was the one who had lived, and that you are the one who is going to be buried."

"Get out," spat Dernwyn, still holding onto the dresser, "leave me alone."

"How can I when you are already alone?" whispered Zurzak. "Your brother couldn't be with you at all times. There were times when your father would send him off to war, and your brother would be gone for countless days... leaving you shivering in the bitter cold of the lonely nights around here... where all the walls of this dank castle would seem to shrink around you."

Dernwyn had been edging his way along the wall while the cat had been speaking.

"There didn't seem to be any escape for you," droned on the big wildcat. "You were... caged, so to speak. All around you everything was cold and empty."

Dernwyn broke away from the wall and ran for the door.

_**BAM!**_

Zurzak had gotten to the door quicker and slammed it shut before the pine marten. The room was now almost void of any light. But Dernwyn could still see the piercing, slitted eyes of the big wildcat before him.

Terror and dread filled the young marten as he stumbled away from the door, desperately trying to keep as far from the big cat as possible. Zurzak calmly, but purposely walked after Dernwyn, trying to close the space between them.

"Stay away from me," gasped the young marten as he continued backing away from the huge wildcat.

He suddenly felt his leg hit something, and, looking over his shoulder, saw that he had reached the bed which still held his brother's body.

"If he were alive right now," whispered Zurzak, "he would most certainly end my life and comfort you. But, as it is, he is not alive," he added coldly. "Your brother cannot protect you any more, little prince."

Dernwyn collapsed by Kirin's side and gripped his brother's paw, a fresh wave of tears spilling fourth from his eyes. "Go away," he wept. "Leave me alone."

The young marten cried out when he felt Zurzak's strong, striped arm suddenly wrap itself tightly around his body. The sharp claws of the wildcat's other arm shot out and gripped Kirin's wrist.

"No, please!" Dernwyn whimpered as the big wildcat began to pull him and his brother's paws away from each other.

Slowly but surely the young marten felt Kirin's paw begin to slip away from his.

He tried to fight against Zurzak, but only half-heartedly, knowing that the cat was stronger than him by far and that he could only be free when Zurzak released him.

"Do not hold onto the dead, Dernwyn," hissed that cold voice in his ear.

The wildcat dragged the crying, whimpering, struggling marten across the room, away from the deathbed of his brother, toward the door.

"Come," whispered Zurzak. "It is cold in here. It is not good for you to be in this room."

Dernwyn struggled to stay on his feet as he was dragged out of the room. Slowly the sight of his brother began to fall out of view as he was pulled into the hallway.

Closing the door behind him, Zurzak suddenly pulled Dernwyn to his side and buried the young marten's face into his robes. Wrapping one burly arm around Dernwyn's lean frame, the big wildcat began to propel the small marten down the hall. If anybeast had seen them, they would have thought that, with Dernwyn weeping into Zurzak's side, that the young prince was mourning over his brother's death still and was seeking comfort from the wildcat. Dernwyn was so distressed by what was going on that he couldn't find it in himself to cry out for help; he didn't even notice what room the big cat had dragged him into.

Zurzak's cutting voice drilled into the young marten's head, chilling his very soul.

"You were always alone. Even when Kirin was with you, you were alone. You were different from your brother. You _are_ different. There is no other beast like you."

Suddenly he turned Dernwyn around so that they were facing each other... then he pulled the young marten close and tightly wrapped his strong arms around him, pinning the marten's forearms to his rib cage. Dernwyn tried to break free, but the big wildcat only tightened his grip. Zurzak squeezed Dernwyn so hard the young marten could hardly breathe.

Zurzak began to stroke the back of the young marten's head. Dernwyn gasped and shuddered at the touch. He squeezed his eyes shut, begging, "Let me go. Please, let me go. _Please."_ He gave up on struggling; it was useless.

Gently stroking the back of his head, the wildcat whispered, "So young... and yet so old. So weak... and yet so strong. So cold... and yet so warm."

"Let me go," whispered Dernwyn.

Zurzak's horrible claws continued to move gracefully up and down Dernwyn's headfur. The wildcat leaned forward, his lips gently brushing Dernwyn's ear. "I know that you don't want to be alone," he hissed softly, sending a shiver through the young marten.

"But you also want to be understood," the wildcat went on. One of his sharp, pointed claws began to caress Dernwyn's neck. The young marten again tried to pull away, but in vain.

"I don't want to have _your _company," Dernwyn growled, feeling anger arise within him. But none of his fear had died down.

"Who else but _I_ understands you?" Zurzak asked softly.

Dernwyn didn't answer.

The big cat smiled. "I alone understand you. I alone am strong enough to protect you. ...And I alone... would really _want_ to protect you."

The young marten finally understood what the wildcat was telling him. Slowly he opened his tear-strained eyes and looked up into Zurzak's striped face, realizing that he, of all creatures, was offering to stand in for Kirin... that he would be his _friend_.

Slowly, the young marten shook his head and closed his eyes again.

"No," he whispered softly.

Dernwyn felt the big, strong arms around him tense. The young marten didn't try to pull away this time. He'd given it up.

_"Why?"_ hissed the big wildcat. "Why do you reject my offer?"

Dernwyn swallowed but could make no answer.

Then suddenly, to his utter confusment and alarm, Zurzak laughed, a dry, hollow chuckle.

"Of course," Zurzak whispered, his claws returning to the young marten's headfur, gently reveling in it's silky softness. "Though I have watched you throughout the seasons, it is doubtful you watched me. You don't know anything about me, do you, little prince?"

At the feel of those sharp, deadly claws crawling their way through his headfur, Dernwyn suddenly felt his heart begin to race again, causing his rib cage to tremble. "P-please," he whispered.

"Didn't I make it clear that I won't hurt you?" Zurzak said, amusement playing in his tone. "Didn't I say that I would protect you? That I would never harm you, little prince?"

Dernwyn shook his head in bewilderment. "But, _why?"_

"Because you remind me... of me... when I was young," the wildcat said. "Young, weak, scared. That's what I once was. Before _they_ came... before they killed my mother... before they took me from that island, to this cold, cold land. _So cold,"_ he whispered, hugging Dernwyn closer, as though trying to seek warmth from him.

Dernwyn had never been more frightened or more confused in his whole life. Suddenly he felt himself being pulled across the room, and he realized for the first time that the room that they were in had a fireplace. The orange-gold flames danced and leapt and glowed before the marten's eyes as Zurzak pulled him closer to the fire, allowing the luminous warmth to wash over them.

Zurzak sat down, pulling Dernwyn down with him into his lap. The young marten made no protest, did not try to fight or resist, but rather found himself actually leaning against the big wildcat. It was as if all of his feeling of cold and most of his sadness were being washed away by the fire.

Gently stroking the back of the marten's head, Zurzak also stared into the flames, his words flowing out into a tale of his own.


	2. Frightful Revelation

**Chapter 2**

Zurzak had once lived on an island just off the coast of Southsward.

It was a warm, fruitful island, where the winters were mild and there was always food to eat. It always seemed as though it were always summer, always warm. Aside from Zurzak, there lived on that island his mother, a number of other wildcats, along with other beasts: rats, stoats, ferrets, and weasels.

Zurzak's mother was a creature of great beauty; everybeast on the island stood in awe of her. With eyes like emeralds and a voice like honey, she was able to strike at any heart that looked at her. And Zurzak loved her. He always used to pick the prettiest flowers he could find and run tottering towards her on short legs. She was always very pleased by this little gesture.

Zurzak never knew who his father was, or why all of them were living on the island in the first place. But those types of questions never entered his young head. The only things that concerned him were the choices of flowers he should bring his mother, the upkeep with the farming and husbandry, what kind of dish should he eat at the next meal, and his little childish fears of just about every visible thing on the island.

"We all lived on that island," Zurzak told Dernwyn as he held the gaunt marten in this lap. "Farming and cultivating the land, living in peace and harmony with one another, never once knowing a day of cold or hunger..."

Zurzak felt his eyes glaze over as he recalled one evening at sunset where he had trampled down to the shore with his fellow playmates to play in the shallows. One of the adult male wildcats, one whom Zurzak had called "Uncle", picked up the little wildcat and twirled him about, laughing. Little Zurzak had shrieked in gleeful fear; he was terrified of heights, as he was of many things.

"Pummee down!" he squeaked, shaking his legs and tail. "Pummee down!"

The older wildcat had laughed all the more, but he set Zurzak down in the shallows. The little wildcat then went about, splashing in the water, but never going any deeper than his knees. He was too fearful of going out further, unlike many of the other little ones.

Zurzak remembered how he had hopped up and down in the dark waves, jumping over each new wave that came in from the sea. He had been enjoying himself immensely, when he suddenly looked up and saw a big ship sailing toward them...

Zurzak blinked, and looked down at Dernwyn, small and thin, sitting very still in his lap.

"But then," the wildcat continued, "when I was even younger than your age, little prince, a fleet of corsairs came, plundering the island, taking slaves here and there. I saw oldbeasts drowned in the water. I saw all the younger beasts beaten into submission. I saw my mother slain before me when she tried to stop them from taking me. And I, along with several others, were shackled in the slave galley, forced to row... and to row... and to endure so many cold, cold nights... so many hungry days."

Zurzak's paws began to tremble and tighten, worrying the pine marten. But the wildcat took no notice, his memory flooded with those merciless days and nights he had been forced to endure on those ships. Countless hours of backbreaking rowing, numerous whiplashes against his back, the screams and cries of countless other slaves drumming into his ears.

"Many of the other beasts died during this period. My playmates... my uncle... almost all of those who came from that island. But I was already dead. My heart stopped beating the moment my mother was run through with that sword. I swore that I would have my revenge... that I would survive this torture... that I would make them all pay... and then after many seasons, fortune smiled on me."

One night, when it was not as cold as the other nights were, the guard had fallen asleep. Zurzak had been waiting for such a thing to happen, for over the seasons he'd been letting his claws grow long, hoping to use them to pick the lock on his shackles. He could never do that before when a gaurd was watching, for they would only file his claws down. But now... the wildcat stuck his long, curved claws into the lock. It nearly took him all night before he heard the _click_ and felt the shackles fall away from his wrists.

He was free!

"Careful not to wake the guard," continued Zurzak, "I snuck up on him, and then took him by the throat. The last thing he ever saw was my face. And had he lived after that, I'm sure he would've been haunted for the rest of his miserable life. But after that, I took the keys and freed all the other oarslaves as well. I then led them all up on deck; the corsairs were still asleep. They thought we were still chained up down below. We snuck into each of their bunks and slew them one by one. A tedious process, but we succeeded. Not one of them was left alive."

The still-young wildcat was regarded as a hero in that hour, but they still couldn't go home; they had no idea how to. Nor did they know where to go, and food was low. Finally, after several more days of struggle and hunger, they arrived at shore. For many seasons afterwards, they traveled throughout this new land, becoming wanderers, learning how to keep warm in the winter, how to forage for food, fighting off foebeasts, going from one place to the next...

"...until finally we came to your father's horde, Dernwyn.

"And we've been here ever since... and I've been watching you. You're so like me before I was taken aboard that ship. So young and weak and frightened of everything. You have no one, just like how I didn't. But it doesn't have to be the same for you, Dernwyn. I can protect you. I can be your friend," he purred, pulling the young marten a little closer. "I can be your shield against the cold and the dark. Let me be your shield, little prince. Let me."

Dernwyn remained silent. He was shaking like mad as the wildcat revealed his story to him, completely startled and terrified by it all.

"Why, though?" he managed to say at last. "What are you going to do?"

"Protect you, of course."

"You... you're not..."

"What?" Zurzak gently asked.

Dernwyn swallowed. "You're not going to... try and..."

Zurzak waited, still holding the young marten.

"To try and... take over my father's horde, are you?"

Silence. Deep silence.

Finally the young marten couldn't take the silence any longer.

"Let go of me," he growled, and tried to struggle his way out of the wilcat's lap, thinking that maybe Zurzak would finally release him.

But the big cat held tight.

"Zurzak," Dernwyn said loudly. "Our conversation is over. Now let _go."_

"No."

Dernwyn froze. Suddenly it seemed as if just by hearing that one little word all of the young marten's insides just disappeared.

Sharp claws curled around Dernwyn's neck. The young marten gasped when he felt one of them prick into his flesh.

"Now you listen to me," growled Zurzak, his voice becoming angrier, roughly tightening his grip on the young marten's neck, nearly choking him. "Your father is growing more insane by the day, and you know it. I can see it in your eyes that you know it. You know he isn't fit to lead the horde; he will bring destruction on all of us one day, and that will come sooner since we are battling against another horde. And I can stop that from happening; no more lives have to be given in this stupid war. No more grief, no more worries, no more despair. But don't fret, little prince; I won't kill your father. He isn't worthy of that. I will only take away his authority. He can still live; it will be good for him to step down and forget the worries of being a king. And perhaps," he said, his voice becoming gentler. "Perhaps both you and he can..." he didn't finish.

"But that all depends on whether or not you will keep silent," the wildcat continued, his voice becoming harder. "You will never breathe a word to a living soul about this, or I will find myself forced to do to you what I have done to all those miserable vermin. Understand, little prince?"

Dernwyn tried to speak, but his voice only came out in a coarse gasp.

"I will take that as a 'Yes'," said the big wildcat as he swiftly placed the young marten on the floor.

And with that, Zurzak turned and marched away, disappearing down the hallway...


	3. Warm Memories

**Chapter 3**

Dernwyn didn't know how he had gotten himself up and left the room. His head was practically drowning in all of the horrible moments he had just lived through. One thing stood out in his mind, though: Zurzak was going to take over his father's horde.

Dernwyn blinked at this. Somehow, for some odd reason, it didn't surprise him... and yet it didn't quite scare him. The young marten knew that his father wasn't... himself, not after Dernwyn's mother...

Memories that Dernwyn had long before buried came back to him; memories of when he had been little more than a babe, out in the woods with his mother on a picnic. Those memories had never quite made sense to him at the time.

Memories of hideous vermin suddenly coming through the foliage, grinning and licking at blades filled the marten's young head... Memories of his mother shoving him away, yelling for him to run, run, run _and don't look back_... Memories of running, running, running, and not looking back, and then finding that he had run in a circle and found himself back at the picnic sight, where he witnessed the vermin holding his mother to the ground, slashing mercilessly at her, tormenting her, killing her...

The piercing screams of his mother echoed in his mind as Dernwyn walked blindly onward, using the wall as support, squeezing his eyes shut and hissing in pain as the images came up and refused to go back down.

He had never understood those memories.

The creatures that had killed his mother... _why?_ Why had they done it? He hadn't understood it before... but as the seasons passed, he learned the reasons for it.

Those vermin were from enemy horde. They had wished to conquer Orrik's horde, and thought that they could break the horde leader's spirit by taking his wife's life. But that had been a grave mistake. A vengeful Orrik beat the enemy horde... and took no prisoners.

It was common knowledge that Orrik lost his sanity over his wife's death. And as the seasons went by, everybeast began to say the same went for Dernwyn as well.

The young marten knew that his subjects thought he was insane, but there was nothing he could do to, or thought he could do, to refute that.

Kirin seemed to have kept his sanity, however, which was another thing that Dernwyn had always envied about his brother. How could he remain so happy and seem so carefree when he had so many burdens? Or _was_ he carefree and happy? Had he simply hid it all for the sake of his father and younger brother? Regardless, the horde largely looked forward to the day when Orrik would retire and hand the reigns over to his eldest son.

_But with Kirin dead, then that makes me..._

Dernwyn suddenly realized that he was crossing through the long dark hall that was the Throne Room. He paused, and turned to look down the hall at the hunched figure that was his father.

King Orrik the Warlord was slouching in his throne with his head in one paw. Sitting there bent with grief in his chair, surrounded by black shadows, gave the once happy king a very ominous appearance.

As Dernwyn gazed upon his father, he remembered what Zurzak had told him about what Orrik really thought of him.

_He wishes that Kirin was the one who had lived, and that you are the one who is going to be buried._

The young marten swallowed as the words played through his head. Was it true? Did his father really wish that he was the one who was dead?

It was true that he and his father were not close, and Dernwyn knew that his father had preferred Kirin over him, which actually was something that never really bothered the younger marten before, but... did he really wish that Dernwyn was dead, and that Kirin was the only one alive?

Dernwyn watched his father, taking in his broad shoulders, his strong-looking arms, his bent posture. Once Orrik had been straight and tall, a noble sight to behold... but now, every single burden seemed to weigh heavily down upon him...

Suddenly he looked up.

Their eyes met.

Dernwyn stood stock still, riveted to the spot, unable to move or to do anything. He just stood there, under the spell of his father's dark eyes that shimmered blue in the light. The tired face of his father was still handsome, but slightly more gray, more wan, more stern... more cold.

Orrik's hard blue-black eyes bore into Dernwyn's, taking the younger marten's breath away.

For an unknown amount of time, the two sat or stood motionless in the darkness, drinking in the other's gaze.

Finally Orrik dropped his head into his paw.

Dernwyn scurried away, feeling somehow frantic with relief, and yet feeling a tug of regret as he made his way out the main door and onto the castle's front step.

The young marten sighed and took a deep breath of fresh air as he walked to the edge of the wide front porch, his cloak billowing about his narrow frame in the wind. It was slightly warmer outside, though it was still quite chilly.

He looked out over the horde that was commanded by his father. It was neither big nor small; the cottages in which they lived in were modest dwellings, filled with peace-loving farmers, all of which were woodlanders mingled with vermin.

Many seasons ago, Orrik had once been an aspiring warlord, and had come to this part of the land with his horde, and longed for it. Being both physically strong and a strategic genius, Orrik easily conquered the woodlanders that were already living there. But much to their surprise, Orrik had only asked of his captives that they merely continue on with their lives peacefully, and make peace with his horde. The woodlanders had obliged, and had not regretted their decision, for Orrik had actually spared their leader, making him a captain of his horde, and had ruled them all with surprising fairness and justice.

It was said that had it not been for the beautiful female marten that walked into his life, Orrik would have continued on the life of a warlord. But having fallen in love, he now only desired to earn her love in return. Making peace with the woodlanders seemed the grandest gesture he could make to win her affections, and they were married mere days after.

Of course, when his wife died, Orrik seemed to have lost all interest in life, and went back to waging wars. Wars that cost him his eldest, and favorite, son.

Surrounding the village was a long stretch of grassland, lined with streams and a forest visible on the horizon. Even further on were majestic tree-covered mountains set against a sky of gray clouds.

This place was home. Dernwyn knew no other. He didn't want to leave it... and yet he wanted to get away from it all...

The young marten sighed, the cool air crowding into his mouth and disappearing into his body. He could remember the time before his mother had died. Without a doubt, those had been the happiest days of his life.

He could remember one day where he had been out in the garden, helping his mother with all of the normal gardening stuff. He had been very small at the time. So small that he was actually able to hide in one of the flower boxes when his mother wasn't looking.

Dernwyn could remember curling up and trying his best not to break out laughing when he heard his mother calling him. He stuck his fists in his mouth to try to suppress his giggles as his mother wandered about the garden, calling his name. After awhile, Dernwyn had peeked out of the flower bed to watch her progress.

His mother, Daylily, had been a beautiful creature. Tall she stood, and though her frame was willowy, she had an air of great strength and nobility about her that any queen would've given her limbs for.

Queen Daylily had fine, rich fur of a deep brown that gave off a reddish tint in the sunlight. That tint would never appear in the same place. It was always in one area or another so that the eye of the beholder was bewildered. The queen's lovely throat and shapely ears had been a creamy golden color, which nicely complemented her soft, luminous eyes, like sapphires sparkling brightly.

Dernwyn's mother had been truly beautiful, and just as wise and gentle. He could remember when he had been hiding in the flower bed, with her soft, musical voice calling out for him, that for awhile he had been held captive by the way she gracefully swept about the garden, and wasn't able to pull himself back into the flowers. She nearly caught him staring at her from the flowers, though Dernwyn always had the suspicion that she had known where he was all along.

"Dernwynnn... Dernwynnn," she called. "It's time for tea. Come on out."

Dernwyn decided to wait a little longer and see if she would eventually give up or not. Finally after awhile King Orrik came out, looking a bit concerned, with Kirin in his wake.

"My dear, what's going on?" he asked. "You're never late for tea."

The queen smiled at her husband and, with a quick glance at where Dernwyn had been hiding, said, rather loudly, "Oh, darling, I've looked everywhere and everywhere for our little Dernwyn, but I just can't find him! King Orrik, Prince Kirin, would you be ever so kind as to assist me in the search for our baby?"

Orrik smiled widely as he also glanced at where his wife had. Kirin, giving a tug to his mother's skirt, gave her a small wink, and set off across the garden, calling his brother's name.

"Dernwyn? Dernwyn? Hey, little brother, where are you?"

"Dernwyn? Dernwyn?" called Orrik as he followed his oldest son. "Come out, now, lad. It's tea time, you know. We can't be late for tea now, can we?"

Dernwyn giggled. He couldn't help it, it was all so silly!

Kirin strolled casually over to where his little brother was hiding, followed closely by Orrik. The both were looking about, saying, "We're having apple tarts, blueberry muffins, and blackberry pie. I'm sure you'd be most upset if we ate it all and left you none."

Dernwyn giggled yet again. The thought of his family eating a meal without him seemed so absurd to him at the time.

"Now where do you suppose that brother of yours' could be, Kirin?" Orrik asked as the two of them stopped just before Dernwyn's flower bed.

Kirin shrugged. "Search me."

"Search you?" questioned Orrik, raising his eyebrows.

Dernwyn giggled a third time.

The two older pine martens winked at each other. "Well, why don't we search these flower beds? Maybe we'll find him in there."

Orrik grinned as he began to go through the flower bed where the baby marten was hiding. "Come out, come out, wherever you arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrre," he said in a singsong voice.

Suddenly Dernwyn gave a squeal of delight as he felt his father and brother's paws begin to tickle his stomach.

"Ooooooooooh! Yeeheehee! Oooh! Yeeheehee! Yeeheehee! Yeeheehee! Stoppit! Yeeheehee! Stoppit! Yeeheeheeheeheeheeheeheehee!"

After more tickling, Orrik picked up his youngest and swung him around in the air, Dernwyn squealing excitedly.

"Found him!" Orrik said triumphantly while Kirin shot an equally triumphant fist into the air.

"Thank you, my good sirs!" laughed Daylily. "Now come along then, you three. Teatime. Before I eat it all before you get there."

"Well!" said Orrik as he held Derwyn so that their eyes were level. "We aren't going to let her eat all of our food, are we?"

"No, you're going to let _me_ eat it all! Hahahaha!" shouted Kirin gleefully as he sprinted back inside, calling over his shoulder, "Last one there hasta wash the dishes!"

Orrik roared with laughter as he put Dernwyn on his shoulders and raced after Kirin, though not fast enough to beat him. Daylily was last to arrive.

"Oh, too bad Mommy," said Kirin as he helped tie a napkin around Dernwyn's neck. "You gotta wash the dishes."

Daylily drew herself up regally. "I'm Queen of this place. I don't have to wash dishes. I've got servants to do that for me."

The queen sat amongst the laughter of the three males. The four sat at the small table, eating, talking, and laughing; Daylily pretending to be severe when she lectured her sons (and sometimes her husband) on table manners; Orrik bouncing both sons on either knee; Kirin showing off by breaking muffins and tarts into little pieces, tossing them up into the air and juggling them before catching them in his mouth; and Dernwyn laughing and clapping at his family's skill and wit.

Yes, those had been the happiest days of his life. But now . . . now was different.

Much different.


	4. Captive

**Chapter 4**

Dernwyn ran through the woods, faster and faster, his footpaws pounding the solid earth painfully; his legs starting to get weary; his arms desperately pumping for more speed; his lungs feeling like they were on fire; his ragged breath sounding in his ears.

Branches reached for him hungrily, roots tried to snare his feet, trying to hinder him from escaping from whatever it was he was running from. A great mist suddenly appeared, veiling the path ahead, making it impossible to see where he was going. But the young marten ran on, desperate to escape his pursuer. Specters appeared in the swirling vapors, all of which seemed to try to grab him just like the roots and branches. Dernwyn was terrified, but refused to be held, knowing it would go ill for him if he was caught.

Freezing cold chills blew through the dark forest, biting into the young marten's body. Every intake of air was like a piercing dagger in his throat.

Suddenly sounds of more pounding footsteps reached his windblown ears. Footsteps that were much, much heavier than his.

_He's coming._

Dernwyn suddenly realized just how hard it was to run now. It was as if strong, heavy chains were dragging on his footpaws, or that his feet had become stones. The young marten carried on, feebly trying to lift his legs, trying to put one paw in front of the other. Dernwyn sobbed as he found that he could no longer move his legs, let alone lift them. Slowly, the young marten turned around just in time to see the object of his fear step through the thick curtain of mist.

Zurzak.

Only he was far more frightening than before. Somehow he was much taller, his shoulders broader... his fangs longer, his claws sharper...

Dernwyn whimpered as he again tried to move his legs as the huge wildcat made his way forward. As the young marten vainly tried to escape, he felt his tired limbs begin to betray him. They gave up, and Dernwyn crumpled to the forest floor.

Zurzak continued advancing towards the trembling pine marten before him. His strange, slitted eyes flickered out as he began to kneel down.

Dernwyn screeched when he realized that this demonic creature was on top of him. Fright and alarm coursed through his body as he tried to get out from under the big wildcat.

The young marten's eyes went wide as saw that two more arms seemed to grow out of Zurzak's body, both just as burly as the first two, with claws that were just as dangerous. The two first set of claws began to undo the clasp to Dernwyn's cloak. The young marten shrieked and flailed his paws at the wildcat's face.

Dernwyn's screams were cut off when one of the clawed paws closed itself around his neck, silencing his cries to choked moans. The young marten reached up and tried to pry the claws loose, but another clawed paw seized one of his wrists and pinned it to the forest floor.

Dernwyn lay helpless as the other two clawed paws of Zurzak slipped off the young marten's clothes and begin ripping the fur from his gaunt body, sending the most unbearable pain through him, killing him, no, no, no, NO, _NO!_

"NO!"

Dernwyn sat up, shaking and sweating all over. The young marten felt his chest in panic, searching for his clothes and fur. They were still there. Giving out a sigh he wiped his eyes and swallowed. It was a dream, a nightmare. Yet this knowledge brought no relief. He knew all too well that that dream could very easily become real...

* * *

After taking several more deep, calming breaths, Dernwyn slowly sat up in his bed, looking around.

The fire in his bedroom's fireplace had gone out, leaving little light - and little warmth - in the room. At first the young marten wanted to hide under the covers as he stared out into the abyss of darkness that was his room. But little by little his eyes grew used to the dark, and soon, aided by the moonlight seeping in through the partially closed window, Dernwyn could see that there were no nighttime monsters about.

Breathing in deeply through his nose, the young marten leaned back on his elbows, realizing that he was still in shock over the day's events, and that he really couldn't gather his thoughts very much.

_Kirin's dead Father hates me wants me dead Zurzak going to overtake my father's horde going to kill me if I say anything..._

Dernwyn rolled over and buried his face into his pillow, wrapping his skinny arms about his head. It was all too much for the young marten to take in. After a near lifetime of sitting quietly in a dark room all alone, with his only excitement being the petty arguments he got into with his brother and enduring the whispers from all the servants, it seemed a miracle Dernwyn hadn't died from all the shock and fright he had received today... or at least died of thirst from all the crying he did.

That thought made the young marten realize how thirsty he was, and somehow, that normal, everyday thought made Dernwyn feel calmer... better... like life itself hadn't really ended, that it could still carry on normally. But either way, it gave him something else to think of instead of all the other things.

And so the marten slid to the side of his bed and stretched out his lean arm to the nearby little table where a candle, along with some tinder and flint, lay. After lighting the wick, Dernwyn carefully got out of bed, pulled on an extra robe for warmth, and, candle in paw, headed towards the door. There would be large barrels of drinking-water down in the kitchens, he could have one of the guards outside his door go and get it for him.

But there were no guards outside Dernwyn's door. The young marten felt irked: there had always been guards outside his door! Or had there?

Dernwyn looked up and down the dark hallway. There was only one torch in each direction, giving the young marten little view of anything around him. He considered calling for the guards, but he had screamed and shouted quite a bit earlier. He didn't feel like raising his voice again. And so, gathering his robes tighter around his thin body, the young marten stepped out into the hallway, headed in the direction of the kitchens.

* * *

Walking down the hallways and stairs had been a terror. Dernwyn had not run into another living creature throughout his journey, not one guard or servant, making the young marten begin to wildly wonder if he were the only living creature in this whole castle. Or worse, the entire kingdom?

Somehow Dernwyn managed to keep in control of himself, and put one trembling footpaw in front of the other as he made his way towards the kitchen. Already he could see the large water barrels, and a ladle nearby! Somehow the sight relieved Dernwyn and he hurried forward eagerly, somewhat proud that he had achieved his goal, even if it was a bit of a trifle goal.

Standing on tip-paw to reach the ladle and pulling the lid off the barrel, the young marten drank deeply, a bit taken aback at how thirsty he was. He supposed all that crying had attributed to this, and decided never to cry like that again.

Finally, Dernwyn set down the ladle, breathing deeply, and replaced the barrel's lid. That was enough for now. Now he must get back to bed. Wiping his mouth, the young marten turned towards the doorway-

-when a low muttering reached his ears.

Dernwyn paused, caught between relief and fright: relief that he wasn't the only creature alive in the castle, and fright that it could be anybeast, or any_thing_, making that sound...

The voices were coming nearer. Dernwyn couldn't hear exactly what they were saying over the pounding of his heart. As the sound of the voices grew louder, so did the sound of the young marten's heart. Who were the creatures coming? Were they friend or foe? Were they just guards and servants? Or were they...

Just then another voice spoke. And even though Dernwyn didn't hear the words, he recognized the sound: Zurzak.

Without another thought, the young marten turned and ran full speed back into the hall, dropping his candle in the process. Dernwyn flew up the stairs, grateful for the few torches that still gave him light.

_Must get back, must get back,_ was all that the young marten could think as he tore his way back to his room, longing for the haven of his bed. He was almost there, just down this hallway and turn the corner-

-and _WHUMP!_

Something large and heavy knocked into Dernwyn, almost knocking the wind out of him. The young marten gasped and scrabbled, but a firm paw placed itself over his mouth and Dernwyn felt the edge of a cold steel blade against his throat as a guttural voice snarled in his ear, "Don't move and I won't gut yah!"

Dernwyn didn't dare move a muscle, believing his captor's words. But if only his heart would stop hammering so hard against his chest so much!

"Who is it, Erol?"

Zurzak's voice calling from down the hall only added to Dernwyn's terror, and the young marten begged himself not to tremble.

"Can't tell, it's too dark," the creature holding Dernwyn replied.

Just then a candle was held before Dernwyn's face, causing the young marten to squeeze his eyes shut.

"Well, well, well..." purred a deep, cold voice. "Your highness, what brings you out of your bed so late at night? Surely you recall our meeting earlier, and what I told you if you interferred?"

New fear gripped Dernwyn. Zurzak thought he had been spying on them! That would incite the wildcat to kill him! Unable to prevent his trembling, the young marten dared open his eyes, only to see the wildcat's long, curved dark claws coming toward his face.

Dernwyn screamed despite his captor's paw covering his mouth. The captor, Erol, jerked Dernwyn roughly and growled, "Hold still, brat! I meant what I said about-"

"Now, now, Erol," Zurzak interrupted. "No need to use that tone. Here, put away your blade, no need to spill any blood tonight."

The wildcat's last few words made Dernwyn's heart fly with hope. Did that mean Zurzak was going to spare him?

"So what do we do with him, then?" Erol grunted, taking his knife away from Dernwyn's slender neck.

"Why don't you just simply tie him up, and keep watch over him for the rest of the night? I'll send somebeast to relieve you of your duties tomorrow."

Erol gave a contemptuous snort. "I ain't no nursemaid! Have somebeast else watch over the brat!"

"Very well. Grettle, Walf, would you two relieve Erol of Prince Dernwyn?"

Out of the darkness two rats came forward and seized Dernwyn, one of them placing his own paw over the young marten's mouth, each of them pining his arms behind his back. Dernwyn groaned and sobbed, relieved that he wasn't about to be slaughtered, yet still fearful of what the morning's events would bring.

The two rats propelled Dernwyn down the hall back to his room. Neither creature bothered to handle the young marten's frail body with care. Even though neither of them were very tall, Dernwyn still had to take very large strides in order to keep up with them. The young marten groaned and sobbed as the rat's paws bruised his arms and muzzle.

Finally they were inside his bedchamber, where they forcibly brought Dernwyn down on his knees and began muttering to each other harshly.

"Gimme yer belt, that way we can use it to tie 'is paws together!"

The young marten didn't dare fight as the rats yanked his arms backwards, tying his wrists together.

"Hellgates, doesn't this little bugger ever _eat?"_one of the rats said, gazing at Dernwyn's small wrists in disgust.

"Shuttup, just get tyin'!" the other replied, pulling a thick cloth over the young marten's muzzle.

Dernwyn felt anger prickle at his skin at the rat's remark, just like how he always did whenever Kirin would comment that he was losing weight. The young marten's wrists were then tied to his ankles as another cloth was tied over his eyes. He was then hoisted up into the air by one of the rats, who deposited him onto his bed.

"There! Now we just have to wait for Zurzak to send somebeast to us and we'll be rid of this brat."

Dernwyn heard the rat over him walk away as one of them said, "Hellgates, its _cold_ in here! Light a fire, will ya?"

Soon the young marten heard the wood in the fireplace being arranged and the sound of sparks flying. Not long after a fire was going, and Dernwyn wished he could get near enough for the warmth to spread over him, but he was forced to lay still on his bed, his joints groaning at the painful position he had been forced into.

One of the rats gave a snort or derision. "Huh, some revolt this is! Stuck being nursemaid to a little princeling that don't know how to feed 'imself!"

"Ah, this ain't no pic-er-nic fer me either! But somebeast has got to keep an eye on the brat, he could ruin the plans. He might run off and warn 'is daddy about Zurzak's plan fer tonight!"

Dernwyn's ears perked at this. What plans? Dernwyn hadn't heard what Zurzak and the others had been talking about earlier, what was the wildcat going to do? He knew Zurzak was going to overthrow his father, but when? Tonight? Was he going to kill Orrick? _What was going to happen?_ Dernwyn silently pleaded with the rats to continue with their conversation, which they thankfully did.

"Well, 'is 'ighness won't be warnin' nobeast about wot's going to be goin' on around here tonight! It's about time for Orrick to step down from th' throne, 'e ain't in 'is right mind. We've all known that fer seasons now!"

"That's right. We all knew it was only a matter of time before it was time for Prince Kirin to take the throne, and he would've made a great king, that one would have! But then Orrick just _had_ to send him off and get killed, didn't he? Huh, I wonder if Orrick knew what he was doing, sendin' Kirin and the rest of all those poor creatures to their deaths!"

This struck at Dernwyn rather hard. Orrick knowing what would happen if he sent Kirin out to fight? Surely not! But the other rat was already talking.

"Nah, Orrick _loved_ Kirin, more than anythin', I'll bet. 'Specially after 'is wife died."

"I suppose you're right, but anybeast can see that it wasn't good for Orrick's mind to see his favorite son like that. And not only that, but with Kirin gone, that makes _that one_-" here Dernwyn knew the rat was pointing at him "-the heir to the throne, and let's face it, _him_ our leader?"

"We'd all die if Orrick kept on leadin' us, or if Dernwyn took over! I'm glad Zurzak's overthrowing Orrick, at least we all know he'll do everything in 'is power to keep us all alive!"

"How d'you suppose 'e'll do it, though? Keep us all alive, I mean? The enemy horde was said to have had more fighters than we do, and a lot of our beasts are pretty dis-hearted still."

"Dunno, but that wildcats' got brains. I'll bet an acorn to an apple that 'e'll think of something!"

The night wore on, with the rats beginning to talk in low tones so that it was harder to hear what they were saying. Dernwyn was frustrated; what was going on? Was Zurzak going to kill his father or not? That was the only thing that really bothered the young marten at the moment...

...but what would he do if the wildcat _did _kill Orrick?

Had it not been for the blindfold, Dernwyn would have blinked at this thought.

_Your father wishes that Kirin was the one who was still alive, and that you were the one who is going to be buried..._

The memory of Zurzak's harsh words flooded into the young marten's mind, and yet almost at once he began questioning whether or not the wildcat's words were reliable. He could've been lying, he could've been just saying that to be unkind... but what if it were true?

* * *

The loud sound of the door being opened jerked Dernwyn awake. He hadn't even realized he had fallen asleep. And immediately he wished he was sleeping again: at least then he couldn't feel the aches and pains in his numb limbs. However, he soon forgot his miseries as soon as a certain voice entered his ears.

"Alright, then? He hasn't been any trouble?"

Zurzak.

"No trouble, chief," one of the rats replied.

"We weren't expecting _you_ to come-" the other rat began, but was cut off by Zurzak.

"I wanted to have a chance to be alone with him, to have a little talk. Leave now, and wait outside the door."

There was a scurrying of paws, followed by the closing of a door.

He was alone with Zurzak.

The only thing Dernwyn could hear was his heart pounding against his rib cage. He was trapped; blind, immobile, and completely helpless, and now that horrible was coming near him-

-and now the monster's long, icy cold claws were on his neck.

Dernwyn tried to shriek, only the gag hindered him. he tried to roll and struggle away, but his limbs were numb and aching. Two tremendulously strong paws seized his lean frame and held him tight.

_"Don't_ try to fight," came that hissing sound that he hated and feared. "You are in no position to fight, little prince."

His wrists and ankles were suddenly free one another; he was able to stretch out, even though it pained him to do so. And it didn't help when he felt Zurzak wrapping both arms around him, burying his gagged, protesting face into the furry robe.

Dernwyn sobbed helplessly. He was trapped in a world of darkness, unable to see or to move or to talk. Oh, if only this monster would stop touching him! Would stop speaking to him, would just go away and leave him alone!

"Shhh," Zurzak soothed, coiling one arm around Dernwyn while the other arm made its way down to the young marten's bonds. "Here, let me ease your pain a bit."

Within moments, Zurzak's claws freed Dernwyn's ankles from his wrists, though his limbs were still tied together. The young marten moaned in relief. In spite of everything it felt good to be able to stretch his legs out-

-but then realized that Zurzak was putting his other arm around him. Dernwyn groaned in protest, trying fruitlessly to distance himself from the creature he most feared.

"Now, now," Zurzak purred, twiddling his claws against the back of the marten's head, forcing Dernwyn to bury his face into the wildcat's robes. "Remember what I just said? You are in no position to fight, little prince. So just stay still and allow me to say what I've come to say."

Out of his fear and disgust arose curiosity. Dernwyn still wanted to know what had happened to his father. The young marten went limp in the wildcat's arms, turning his face away from Zurzak's robes so he could breathe better.

"That's better," the wildcat said. "Now then, where to begin? Well, your father is alive, if that pleases you."

Relief flooded Dernwyn's system, except... there was still one part of him that wasn't... Was it because he still wasn't sure if it was true that Orrick wished that he had died in Kirin's place?

"But he has been stripped of his title as king," Zurzak went on. "He put on a good fight last night, but he was outnumbered. He's down in the dungeons now, in case you want to know. Right now all the creatures you met last night, excepting Grettle and Walf, are now going through the kingdom, telling them that _I_ am now the king. I bear a lot of confidence in saying that they will all except me as their king, as I am not weighed down by any grief of loss, as your father is. So I don't think there will be a rebellion against my reign any time soon."

For a moment there was silence. Dernwyn's chest tightened. It was harder to breathe, little bits of scortching fire were prickling all over him, his paws were numb with cold. He didn't like being blindfolded, gagged and tied up. He didn't like being held by this... this... _creature._ He wanted to just _get away-_

"But you must be wondering where that leaves you," the wildcat went on. "I decided to give you another chance on my offer.

"I told you before that you remind me of me, when I was young, and that I would protect you just as Kirin protected you. Right now you are nobody's prince, Dernwyn. You hold no authority over anybeast. And you have little to no affection from any of your subjects. There is only one creature that you can rely on right now.

"And that, is me. So what do you say, little prince? Do you accept my offer?"

There was a long, long silence.

Then finally, slowly, Dernwyn nodded his head.


	5. Waking Up

**Chapter 5**

"Come on, slow pokes! Don't be all day!"

"Slow poke yourself, baggybottom!"

"Now, young uns, none of that! If'n you scurvy curvs can't behave yourselves, its back to the abbey we go!"

"Ah, Skip, we were only just funnin'!"

Skipper Rorac chuckled, adjusting the knapsack slung over his broad back. Marching alongside the big otter was Marok, a sturdy young mouse, and trailing behind were Rocc, a red squirrel, and Soilburr, a mole.

"Hurr, I baint be able to walk'n much further," Soilburr moaned, rubbing his stomach. "Oi be a-starved from 'unger, Oi be! Burr arr!"

"You can live off your fat for a little while longer," Rocc said without looking at the mole.

Soilburr glared at the squirrel. "Oi'll be gettin' ye for that un!"

It was a few minutes later when the group finally settled on a spot for lunch. Soilburr plumped himself down, relieved to be sitting at last.

Rocc snorted at the pudgy mole. "Don't tell me you're tired already! We still have farther to go!"

"And we'll never get the herbs we need for the infirmary with the way you two are ploggin' along," Marok smirked.

Skipper sighed, shaking his head. "Ah, young uns these days. Yer all so cruel to each other. Now who wants a helping to some watershrimp dipped in otterroot sauce?"

Rocc wrinkled his nose. "No thanks. I hate spicy foods."

"I'll try one," Marok said bravely, taking one of the proffered otterroot-covered shrimps.

"Hurr," said Soilburr. "Oi'll be havin' a drink first. Do ee have any Octoburr ale?"

Rorac shook his head. "Sorry, cully, but we do have water. Will that do?"

The mole took one of the canteens and chugged it down thankfully.

"I'm guessing it will," Marok said. And without further ado, bit off a piece of his shrimp. Moments later he too was chugging down on his canteen.

Rocc shook his head disgustedly as he pulled out a piece of cheese speckled with hazelnuts. "How can you eat that stuff, Marok?"

"I suppose it's cuz he's tougher 'n you, eh?" Rorac said playfully, winking at the squirrel as he popped a few of the spicey shrimps into his mouth.

Rocc only shook his head again.

Lunch passed by peacefully, with food and jokes passed all around. Skipper pulled out his flute and played a few notes for his small audience, but the otter was a terrible player.

"Arrgh, please Skipper, we've suffered enough!" Rocc begged, covering his ears and shutting his eyes.

Soilburr took advantage of the squirrel's distraction to slide some of the hot otterroot sauce into his sandwich.

Rorac laughed, putting away his flute. "Someday I'll be able to play that thing, you mark my words!"

"Yes, but for now," Marok put in, "stick to other things, like eating a lot and sleeping late."

The others laughed, including Skipper. Suddenly, Rocc's laughter turned into wails as he took a bite out of his sandwich.

_"Arrrrggggh! _Hot! Hot! Hothothothothothot! Hooooooot!"

The others continued laugh, though not as hard as Soilburr.

"Hurr, Oi told ee Oi'd get ee back, zurr squirrel! Hurr hurr hurr!"

Rocc was soon running circles around the forest, fanning at his mouth, in complete panic as the fiery feeling spread throughout his mouth.

"Just get some water!" Marok finally shouted, holding out a canteen.

But Rocc hadn't noticed the canteen, and opted to go running into the woods in search for a stream (after all, he figured a stream would be of better assistance than a puny canteen).

Skipper, Marok, and Soilburr were all holding their sides, tears streaming down their cheeks.

"Ha ha, heehee, oh, Soilburr, th-that wasn't very ni-ice!" the otter chieftain said.

Soilburr didn't even try to reply, he was laughing so hard.

Just then Rocc came back, looking even more wide-eyed than ever. He dove for one of the canteens and hastily put his lips to it. Unfortunately, the canteen had been Soilburr's, who had finished it all off. Rocc threw the useless canteen away, and picked up Marok's, only to find only a tiny mouthful in it.

"Here, here's your's," Skipper said, holding out said object.

The squirrel snatched it away and drank heavily, water spilling down his cheeks and onto his tunic. As soon as he was done, Rocc gasped for air, and then choked out,

"There's a body in a ditch."

Skipper's smile faded. "What?"

"A body! There's a dead body in a ditch-!"

"Show me!"

Within moments Rocc led his friends over to the ditch. Marok and Soilburr hung back slightly; neither had ever seen a dead body before.

Skipper, however, marched straight forward, and peered down. There, lying on the muddy ground, was indeed the still body of a small pine marten.

* * *

"The poor thing. I wonder what could've happened to him?" said Sister Grace, the infirmary keeper, as she carefully placed a blanket over her newest patient.

"Your guess is as good as mine, Sister," said Skipper, peering anxiously at the undersized pine marten. "He was just lyin' there in the ditch, looking for all the world like a corpse. I was shocked when I saw the left side of his chest moving, though. His heart was still beating!"

"And he was thin enough for you to see it," said the abbot. "The poor animal. I wonder, Skipper, could he have been a slave?"

"Nay, Father Abbot, though that is a good guess. That's what I first thought when I saw 'im. He was so thin, and covered in scars, but y'see his wrists and ankles? No markings of any chains or shackles, and there are no whip marks. All of his scars look like the scars you'd get from tripping and falling into a ditch. Not only that, but look at 'is clothes."

"What about them?" asked Sister Grace. "They're all muddy and torn."

"That may be, Sister, but they aren't rags. They look like they were once robes, and 'e's wearin' plenty of layers, too. No slaver would give 'is slave more'n a couple of layers for warmth."

"Hm, so what could he be, Skipper?" wondered the abbot. "Do you have any other ideas?"

"Well, Father, I have figured that maybe he's from another land, and that there was a famine where he lived. That would explain why the poor little thing's so thin."

"A famine!" cried Grace. The hedgehog wrung her paws. "Oh, what a terrible idea! He must've been running away to get help for his family or something!"

"Aye, that may be, Sister. But until 'e wakes up, we won't know where 'e's from, or who 'e is."

Silence prevailed a moment.

"Skipper," the abbot said, "how are Marok, Rocc, and Soilburr? Are they alright?"

"Oh, they're alright. They were a bit afraid at seein' a dead body for the first time. But they were relieved when they found out the little marten wasn't dead."

"How did they handle themselves, Skipper?"

"They did alright, Father Abbot. Marok was the most resourceful, as always. He suggested that Rocc go on ahead back to the abbey to warn you all here that we were bringing back a wounded beast."

"Ah, Marok is a fine young lad. Perhaps he will become the next Champion of Redwall?"

"You never know, Father. But anyway, we made a stretcher out of our belts for the pine marten. His leg was broken, and we couldn't risk bringing any further damage to 'im. Oh, and by the way, Sister, sorry for not getting the herbs you needed."

"That's alright, Skipper. You had to think of the more important issue, and that was getting the poor marten back to the abbey. You can go and get the herbs tomorrow."

"Oh, uh, if its alright with you, I think I'll send another of my crew out to get the herbs instead. I'd rather stay here and keep an eye on the marten."

The abbot raised his eyebrows at the otter. "Why Skipper, I strongly doubt you'll be needed to protect us from-"

"Oh, its not that, Father! No, no, its just that, well, it was me who brought 'im back, right? I just feel its my responsibility to stay by his side in case he wakes up."

The abbot mouse smiled warmly. "You are a kind-hearted beast, Skipper of otters."

"Of course you can send one of your crew in your stead for the herbs!" nodded Sister Grace.

"Thankee, mates."

Once again silence reigned before Skipper spoke again.

"Ah, tis a shame. Nobeast should have t' go through whatever this uns gone through. Lookit 'im. So small, and yet look at his features. Too defined to be a dibbun. Y'know, if'n he had more to eat, and got all washed up, 'e'd be a handsome beast."

"Well, Skipper," sighed Grace, "we'll never know if he doesn't wake up."

"I must be going," said the abbot. "There are many abbeydwellers gossiping about the new arrival, so I suppose I'll have to inform them of all that we know."

"And I'll go and get Skipper some food," said Sister Grace. "And maybe some food for the pine marten if he wakes up."

This time, once the other two animals exited the room, the quiet lasted for much longer.

Then Skipper picked up another blanket from one of the other beds, and placed it over the marten's frail body, whispering softly, "Don't die, little one. Don't die."

* * *

When he woke up, he didn't know if he had or not.

Everything was dark, pitch black... and still. Very still.

He simply lay there, breathing deeply, trying to gather his thoughts as they jumbled about in his head. Strange, half-formed ideas formed in his head, passing by only to fade into the darkness surrounding him.

Squeezing his eyes shut and opening them wide, he realized that he was indeed awake, and for one frightened moment, he thought he had gone blind!

But then he saw something pale, and realized it was moonlight filtering in through a window, pasting itself across the wall and ceiling. He breathed a deep sigh of relief. He wasn't blind, it was just nighttime was all.

And he suddenly became aware of how warm he felt, and how comfortable. He was covered in soft, clean blankets, and resting on an equally soft, clean mattress. A pillow, just as soft and clean, cushioned his head.

He smiled and breathed shakily. It had been a dream. It had all been a horrible, nasty dream, a nightmare, and none of it had happened. None of it. He was still home, in his bed, and...

...he couldn't move his leg.

He blinked. His heart burned and froze at the exact same time. He sat up, throwing the blankets off of him. Moonlight cast itself where he lay, as though trying to help him see the bindings on his right leg.

_falling_

_slipping_

_earth speeding up to him_

_gasping_

_falling_

_landing on leg wrong way_

_excruciating pain_

_mud_

_roots_

_rocks_

_blackness_

He gasped. It hadn't been a dream.

It all really happened.

"Oh, yer awake."

He gasped again, shriller, flailing about, trying to get away, his leg stabbing with pain -

- long, muscular arms were enfolding themselves around him -

He screamed, only a large, rough paw covered his mouth. He tried to pry the paw away, tried to sink his claws into his attacker's arms, but the muscle was too thick and he was too weak.

"Shh, shh, hey there, calm down, little mate, calm down. Nobeast is gonna hurt you."

He struggled and tried to bite the paw gagging him, but the movements only caused more pain to strike at his leg.

"Come on, now, little mate, yer only gonna hurt yerself. Now stop this, yer gonna wake up the entire abbey! Shush!"

Finally, he stopped fighting, going limp in his captor's arms, sobbing helplessly.

The stranger held still for a moment before running a tender paw through his headfur, rocking him back and forth gently.

"Shh, shh, it's alright, little mate. Calm down. Like I said, nobeast is gonna hurt you. Everythings' gonna be alright."

Slowly, his sobs died down, and he contented himself with being rocked back and forth like a baby within those great big arms. Then there came the sound of a door being opened, and an orangey light filled the room.

"Skipper? Is everything alright?" asked an old, motherly voice.

"Oh, our visitor has just woken up."

"He has? Oh good, now we can know how to help him. Is he hungry? Would he like some food?"

"Well, what do you say, little mate? Would you like something to eat?"

For a moment he just sat there, leaning against the creature that held him. It occurred to him that he hadn't eaten for a long while... and yet he didn't feel hungry.

"I'll just go and get some soup to warm him up, alright?"

"I think that'll be a good idea, Sister. Er, before you go, though, would you mind lighting another candle so we can see a little better?"

"Certainly." There was the sound of tinder and flint, and more golden light entered the room. "There."

"Thankee, Sister."

Another door open and closed, and some of the light left with the unseen female.

"Now let's see what we've got here." The arms holding him now unwrapped themselves from around him, and the creature moved away.

He didn't like the loss of warmth as the creature did that, but made no complaint. Instead he turned and looked up at the creature, realizing that it was an otter. It was a male one, very large and almost scary-looking, save for the eyes, which were warm and gentle.

"Well, hello," the otter said, smiling. "I'm Skipper Rorac, though you can call me 'Skip' if you like. That's what a lot of the youngbeasts around here call me."

He simply stared.

"Um, well," the otter, Rorac, went on. "Welcome to Redwall Abbey, I suppose. We found you lying in a ditch unconscious, and we brought you back here to patch you up. But I think you already saw that," he added, gesturing at the bindings on his leg.

He looked again at his leg, and realized that he blankets were still thrown back. Giving a shudden shudder, he tried to reach for them, but Skipper got to them first, pulling the covers up to his chin.

"Sorry about that. Here you are. But anyway, what's your name? How did you come to be in that ditch? Have you any family?"

Again he didn't speak, but it was only for a moment. It was a moment in which he realized... that he didn't have to keep on living the life he had. That he could leave it all behind.

"Miru," Dernwyn said. "My name is Miru."


	6. Warm Soup and Cold Memories

**Chapter 6**

_Tears poured freely down Dernwyn's cheeks as he glared hatefully up at the wildcat._

_"You," he breathed. "You MONSTER!"_

_The young marten threw himself at the big cat, screaming, striking out, wanting nothing more than to hurt him. To make him feel pain, to make him bleed, to make him wish he'd never been born!_

* * *

Skipper considered the small pine marten. He sat there, holding the blankets up to his chin, his face solemn with hollow eyes. The otter chieftain didn't think he had ever seen another creature who looked so... dead.

"Miru, is it?" he asked gently. "So, what happened to ye, mate? How did you come to be in that ditch?"

The marten didn't reply for a moment, closing his eyes as he hunched up his shoulders. He seemed to be recalling some unpleasant memory, which made his next statement a bit of a surprise.

"I... I can't remember."

Skipper had an inkling Miru wasn't being totally honest, but decided not to press the subject. The marten would talk about it when he was good and ready.

"Where are you from?" the otter inquired. "I've never seen you in these parts before. You look like you've been through a famine or something..."

"Yes," Miru answered - a little too quickly. "Yes, I... there was a famine... It... it wiped out... it took away my whole family," the marten explained, his voice slowly becoming a whisper.

A dark shadow passed over Miru's hollow young face. There was no way he could've been lying about that, Skipper realized.

"Oh, matey," the otter chieftain said, putting his arms around the little marten, who laid his head against Skipper's chest.

* * *

_Dernwyn's flailing arms were caught by strong clawed paws._

_Zurzak's hollow voice tried to sound soothing. "I know you're upset, little prince."_

_Dernwyn screeched and struggled in the wildcat's grasp. "Upset? You killed my father! You killed him! It was you who turned the whole village against him! If it wasn't for you he'd still be alive! I HATE YOU!"_

* * *

"But how did you survive, mate?" Skipper asked quietly. "Wouldn't your family have tried to go in search for other land with you?"

"They... they gave all their remaining food to me. They said I needed it the most."

Skipper became silent, stunned by this. So the whole marten's family had given up all of their food just so one of them could live? That would've meant that the little one had watched them all die, probably one by one.

"Where are you from?" the otter finally asked. "How far away from Mossflower did you come?"

"Mossflow... flow... ah... ahh-_choo!"_

In a flash, Skipper had a kerchief in the marten's bony paws. "Whoa, seems like you've caught a cold there, matey. Good thing we found you when we did!"

"Thang you," Miru said groggily, his head feeling suddenly fuzzy. As he blew his nose into the kerchief, the otter continued speaking.

"Your welcome. And aye, this is the country that you're in right now, matey. You're in a building called Redwall Abbey, and its in a land called Mossflower. But where is your home located?"

"I... I'm not sure," the marten answered truthfully, laying his paws down. "I didn't keep track of where I was going when I... when I was looking for..."

"Aye. I know, mate."

Just then, the door to the infirmary opened, and in came Sister Grace, bearing a tray laden with a bowl of soup and a piece of bread, her lantern dangling from her fingers.

"Here we are," the motherly hogwife said, coming over to the bed. "Some nice warm vegetable soup for you. And I've cut and buttered the bread already, so you can chew on that a bit while you wait for the soup to cool down, dear. Now I have some water right here in the infirmary, so you can have some of that while I head back down and get you some mint tea. Are the pillows soft enough?"

Skipper watched as Sister Grace set the tray over Miru's lap, making certain that it was steady, before handing over a napkin and putting an extra pillow behind the marten's back.

All the while Miru shied away from the hogwife, only he didn't seem fearful this time. It was more like he was taken aback at such kindness. "Um... yes... thank you."

Sister Grace beamed. "Your welcome, dearie. Now again, be careful with the soup, its still very warm, and it'll be the same deal with the tea when I bring it up, so don't drink it right away. You'll be able to use it to warm your paws, though. And smell it too. Oh, and I better get you some cool water, you'll want to have some of that first, no doubt."

And with that, the motherly hedgehog went and poured her patient some water from a nearby pitcher, placed it on the tray before scurring off to fetch the mint tea.

Skipper chuckled. "Ah, that Grace. She's a darlin', no mistake. So, how do you like the bread?"

But as he turned to gaze back at Miru, he realized that the pine marten hadn't yet touched his food, or his water. He watched Miru paw the bread for a moment before lifting up the cup of water and trying to bring some of the cool liquid to his mouth. But as the marten began to raise the cup, his thin paw began shaking so hard that he began to spill.

"Here, now, matey, let me help with you with that," Skipper said solemnly, taking the cup and holding it level with the marten's lips.

Miru seemed to hesitate when the otter did this, but nevertheless, he placed his paws over Skipper's and brought his mouth to the cup's rim. The marten drank deeply, a good sight to Rorac's eyes. After Miru was finished, he made to pick up the spoon, but again his paw began to tremble.

Skipper helped him out with that as well and took the spoon in his own paw, dipping it into the soup and holding it level with the marten's lips.

And again Miru hesitated, only this time for much longer. For a moment, Skipper wondered if the marten felt embarrassed, being treated like a newborn babe-

-but then a sudden thought struck the otter: what if Miru was not embarrassed... but guilty? His family had given him their food so he could live. They sacrificed themselves for his sake, and he watched them all starve to death. What if this had caused the young marten to feel guilty about eating?

Well, whatever the reason, there was no way he was going to let such a skinny creature go without food.

Taking on as soothing a tone as he could, the otter chieftain whispered, "Hey there, c'mon, matey, these are prime vittles. You won't find food like this for miles around." Skipper suddenly wished he hadn't quite used those words, they might get Miru to think about the famine far away. Nevertheless, he plowed on with his gentle urgings. "Come on, little mate. For me, won't you? Won't you eat a little? Just for me?"

The pine marten turned and looked at the otter when he said those last few sentences.

* * *

_"Come on, little brother. For me, won't you? Won't you eat a little? Just for me?"_

* * *

There was something strange in the way how Miru looked at Skipper... it was as though he was seeing... somebeast else...

And then slowly, but steadily, Miru turned back to the spoon and carefully took a sip.

"Mm, it's hot."

"Well, the Sister said it was hot, didn't she? We better stick to the bread for awhile, eh? Here, this piece looks nice and buttery, why don't we try that..."


	7. Season Long Nightmares part 1

**Chapter 7**

It was mid autumn when the marten who called himself Miru came to Redwall Abbey. Naturally everybeast was curious about the new arrival, though none of them were allowed to visit him in the sickbay, as the Father Abbot knew that would be rude and disrespectful to crowd the poor creature with questioning beasts.

But every abbeydweller managed to get at least one glance at the mysterious pine marten all the same. They would come up to the infirmary, asking Sister Grace for some medicine or special herbs or a bandage, and would sneak a peek over at the sleeping creature. After that, the curious abbeybeasts would became satisified with that one look and go about their business.

But the three youngbeasts who had been with Skipper when Miru had been discovered were bursting with curiousity.

"C'mon, Skip, tell us what you know!"

"How'd he get like that?"

"Where'd he come from?"

"Wot do ee bee think'n e'll bee a-wantin' t' do when ee's better, zurr?"

"Now you three, quiet down, now," the otter chieftain ordered. "First of all, he's very weak and tired, an' he needs his rest, so don't go sneakin' into the infirmary and pestering him. He's very shy and it won't do having you all crowd around him. Second of all, when he's up and feelin' better, you can ask him then. And when you do ask him, he'll answer in his own good time, alright?"

"But surely he's told you some of what's happened to him, right?" Marok argued. "Couldn't you just tell us what you know, so we'll have less to ask him when he starts walking around?"

Skipper sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well... I suppose it won't hurt to tell you this much..."

The three younger animals listened eagerly.

"He said that he's a survivor of a famine. His entire family gave up their own food just so he could live. And it cost them all their lives. There, satisified?"

Marok, Rocc and Soilburr became solemn-faced at this new piece of information.

"I... I had no idea," said Marok.

"Course you didn't," Skipper replied. "But like I said, just leave the pine marten alone until he's ready to come out of his shell, alright?"

"Er, Skip," said Rocc. "When do you think he'll be able to come out of the infirmary?"

"Oh, I don't know. His leg is pretty banged up. Sister Grace says it'll probably be about spring when he's able to get back up. So you'll have to wait less'n two seasons if you want any more questions answered."

* * *

Although the two seasons passed slowly for the three curious young creatures, it certainly didn't for Miru.

_Miru... my name is Miru..._

The seasons passed quickly because he slept through most of it. And it was because of this, he ate little, which caused great concern to Sister Grace. She tried coaxing him to eat every time he woke up, but he would either eat nothing or hardly anything at all.

Fortunately, the kindly hogwife found out that Skipper had managed to get some food into the undersized pine marten, so she made arrangements for the otter to eat all of his meals in the infirmary, just in case Miru should wake up during those times. And if he woke up at any other time, Skipper was called upon to feed him.

It certainly was something for the Redwallers to talk about: Skipper Rorac, who fought more battles with the verminkind than any other creature in Mossflower, being so attentive to a pine marten.

"But that shows what a noble creature we have been blessed with," said the abbot, folding his paws into his long sleeves. "I have offered the sword of Martin several times to Rorac, but the otter has refused, saying he's never heard the call of Martin."

"Shame," said Brother Samuel. "We couldn't do better than Skipper for an Abbey Champion."

"Oh, I think he has somebeast else in mind," the old abbot smiled, glancing over at Marok.

_Miru... my name is Miru... not Dernwyn... Dernwyn died... he's dead..._

Even during the night, Skipper was still required to watch over Miru, for it seemed as though he was the only creature the young pine marten would trust.

The very night on which Miru had been given his first Redwall meal, he went back to sleep afterwards, only to wake up screaming, pleading and struggling with some unseen foe. Skipper, who had been dozing in the bedside chair, took a hold of Miru, getting him to slowly stop thrashing around.

"It's alright, little mate, it's alright! Nobeast is gonna hurt ye, wake up! Its just a dream, just a dream," the burly otter soothed, trying to keep the marten from hurting his bandaged leg any further.

Miru murmured painfully before taking a few shuddering deep breaths... and then, leaning back against Rorac, he whispered, "Ohh... thanks, Kirin..."

Skipper blinked. Kirin? ...Oh... the marten was talking in his sleep; probably to one of his family members. His brother maybe...

The otter, after assuring Sister Grace (who came in momentarily) that everything was alright, had then occupied himself with rocking Miru back and forth, singing the lullaby his own father had sung him when he was a dibbun.

Early autumn became late autumn, which soon turned into winter. And all through it, Miru the marten ate and slept, but mostly slept.

And each time before he feel asleep again, he hoped he wouldn't dream...

* * *

_"But you must be wondering where that leaves you," Zurzak continued. "I decided to give you another chance on my offer._

_"I told you before that you remind me of me, when I was young, and that I would protect you just as Kirin protected you. Right now you are nobody's prince, Dernwyn. You hold no authority over anybeast. And you have little to no affection from any of your subjects. There is only one creature that you can rely on right now. _

_"And that, is me. So what do you say, little prince? Do you accept my offer?"_

_There was a long, long silence._

_Then finally, slowly, Dernwyn nodded his head._

_He felt the burly arms encircling him tighten and tremble a little. _

_"You... you accept my offer?" _

_The wildcat's voice seemed to carry a note of... elation... which was somehow even more terrifying than how his voice normally was._

_For a moment there was nothing but stillness and silence... _

_...until Zurzak released him, laying him out on the bed._

_"Good," he said, his voice still carrying that strange elated note. "Good. Now... let's untie you, shall we?"_

_First the ropes binding the marten's ankles were removed. Zurzak then set about rubbing the feeling back into them, although he was careful not to be too rough. Next his wrists were released from their bonds, and the wildcat began rubbing them as well. _

_Throughout all of this Dernwyn was quiet and still. He didn't know exactly why he found himself accepting Zurzak's so-called 'offer', but somehow, at the time, it seemed the most natural thing to do..._

_The wildcat finished rubbing the marten's frail wrists, and Dernwyn then felt himself being eased up into a sitting position. Those horrible claws were then reaching behind his head to untie the gag. Goosebumps arose beneath his fur as the knot was untied. Soon the cloth was removed, and he licked the inside of his mouth as the claws undid the blindfold._

_Even after the cloth was gone, Dernwyn still kept his eyes closed for a moment, not quite ready to look the wildcat in the face just yet._

_Suddenly he felt one of Zurzak's paws under his chin. _

_"Are you alright?" The wildcat's tone was disturbingly tender. _

_Startled, the young marten's eyelids fluttered open, and he found himself looking into the green slitted eyes of Zurzak._

_The wildcat was... there was something... _soft_... about his face... something... _fatherly?

_"I... I'm fine," Dernwyn replied, easing his chin away from the dreaded claws._

_"Good. Come and sit by the fire so you can get warm. I'll build up the fire better."_

_Dernwyn found himself huddled up next to the fireplace, his paws and footpaws folded in front of him to catch the fire's warmth._

_Zurzak, a monstrous mound of striped fur, black robes, sharp claws and weird, staring green eyes, was sitting nearby, thankfully for once making no effort to touch the pine marten._

_Not a word passed between them. Dernwyn began to feel uneasy. Usually Zurzak was always speaking, making some kind of sinister speech about something, but now... _

_...now he seemed... different. And the pine marten wasn't so sure whether or not he liked it._

_"Is there anything you would like?"_

_Dernwyn gave a start at the wildcat's sudden words. "What?"_

_A troubled look passed through Zurzak's green eyes, and he repeated, somewhat hesitatingly, "Is there anything you would like? An extra blanket? Something to eat, or drink?"_

_"...No. ...Thank you."_

_Silence._

_"Well, actually-"_

_"Yes?" Zurzak eagerly leaned forward._

_"I'd... I'd like to... see my father."_

_The wildcat didn't move for a moment, and then he slowly leaned back. He gazed at Dernwyn for awhile, before replying, "Of course."_


	8. Season Long Nightmares part 2

**Chapter 8**

_The dungeons were dark, damp, and eerily green. Lit torches hung from the walls, creating a sinister aura as Dernwyn headed down the narrow passageway towards his father's cell. Zurzak was at his side, the wildcat's arm draped across his bony shoulder. The young marten couldn't suppress a shudder. The air down here was cold and wet; it was dark and too closed in. This was no place for anybeast to be._

_Zurzak tightened his arm around Dernwyn. "We should've had you wear some extra layers. Its far too cold down here."_

_"I'm fine," the young marten replied, keeping his gaze ahead and trying to ignore the wildcat's robe brushing against his cheek. Suddenly he slipped on a bit of water on the floor, forcing him to cling to that robe - and causing Zurzak to put an even greater hold on him._

_"Are you alright, little prince?" the wildcat inquired, helping Dernwyn regain a proper footing. "We don't have to be down here..." _

_"I'm fine," was the tense reply._

_Further and further down the cold, damp, green hallway, further and further, until finally, they arrived at a particular door._

_There was a small window near the bottom of the door with iron bars criss-crossing it. Dernwyn was grateful that the window was lower, otherwise he'd be forced to let Zurzak hold him up as he spoke to his father through it._

_Stepping away from Zurzak, the young pine marten crouched down next to the little window. Inside he could see nothing but black._

_"Father?"_

_For a moment, there was silence. Then:_

_"Dernwyn?"_

_From out of the dark came Orrik, looking worn and defeated, even though he had only been in this dungeon for one night. His dark blue eyes watered at the sight of his youngest son, and he reached his fingers through the bars in a vain effort to hold him._

_"Oh, son, you're alive. I was so afraid that Zurzak..."_

_Dernwyn didn't answer. Seeing his own father like this was giving him some fearsome mixed feelings... and he knew that he wouldn't be able to decide on any of them until he found out something very important._

_"Dad... did you ever... really wish... that... that I was the one... who died... and not Kirin?"_

_Orrik blinked. His fingers became as still as the iron bars that they were stretched between._

_Dernwyn's paws, however, began to shake. _

_"Dad, did you ever... ever... really wish... that I... was the one who died? Did you?" _

_His voice was beginning to raise, becoming harsher with every word that spilled forth from his mouth. _

_The former king's paws also began to tremble, and his eyes, his sad, dark, tortured eyes, spilled forth tears._

_Dernwyn's own eyes mirrored his father, and he turned, got to his feet and walked back down the passageway, never looking back._

_He never knew it, but Orrik's paws, still between the iron bars, went limp as he watched his son disappear into the darkness. His eyes never left the retreating form of the only family he had left._

* * *

Skipper Rorac came into the infirmary like a laughing pup, slinging his wet scarf on a chair near the fireplace and shaking snow from his pelt.

"Ahhh, a good romp in the snow, now that's a-"

"A good way to catch a cold, Skipper," Sister Grace interrupted, indicating that he should lower his voice.

"Not me," Skipper grinned. "I always go floppin' around in the snow during the winter."

"Without a cloak or mittens? Honestly, what an example you're setting for the dibbuns."

"I got me scarf, haven't I?" the otter objected. "If that isn't a good example, I don't know what is."

A feeble laugh, followed by a sneeze, caught their attention.

"Ah, Miru!" Skipper chirped, heading towards the pine marten's bed. "Glad to see you awake! How's your leg? Feeling any better?"

The young marten, who had a cool cloth draped over his forehead, gave a sigh. "Oh, its fine, I guess."

"Good," the otter boomed heartily. "By next winter you can go for a romp in the snow with me, eh?"

Miru gave a shudder. "No, thank you."

Skipper laughed, slapping his thigh as he sat in his usual chair. "Say, Sister, are there any prime vittles around here for two ailin' seadogs like us?"

"Coming right up," the kindly hogwife said, giving a wry smile as she headed for the kitchens.

The otter chieftain stretched himself comfortably in his chair, emitting a leisurely groan. "So, how've you been sleepin'? Any nightmares?" he added with a touch of concern.

For a moment, Miru was silent, his blue eyes seeing something that wasn't there...

"No," he murmured. "No... I'm fine."

_Or at least I will be..._


	9. Season Long Nightmares part 3

**Chapter 9**

_Dernwyn hadn't been looking where he was going. He was in too much shock over what he had discovered, that he didn't notice the puddle of water from earlier that made him slip._

_The young marten shrieked in surprise, falling backwards-_

_-only to be caught by the unmistakable clawed paws of Zurzak._

_"Are you alright-"_

_"Leave me alone!" the pine marten shrieked, thrashing out for freedom. Somewhat to his surprise, Zurzak made no attempt to hold him._

_Dernwyn ran full pelt out of the dank, horrible dungeons, never wanting to go down there ever, ever again._

* * *

"Miru? Hello? Are you asleep?"

* * *

_Dernwyn returned to his room, slamming the door shut. He couldn't... he couldn't... couldn't what? Breathe? Yes, he was having trouble breathing, but that was easily remedied when he stopped and focused on taking deep breaths. But there was something else. Something..._

_The door suddenly opened and closed again._

_"I told you to leave me alone!" the pine marten snarled, not bothering to turn around as he knew it was Zurzak._

_"You know I can't leave you alone like this," the wildcat's hissing voice replied, placing his claws on Dernwyn's shoulder._

_The young marten turned then, swinging his arm up to ward off any further contact. "I don't care!" he screamed. "Just leave me alone!"_

_His flailing arms were caught by strong clawed paws. Zurzak's voice sounded hollow. "Temper, temper, my little prince."_

_Dernwyn screeched and struggled in the wildcat's grasp. "I'm not your little prince! Now let me go!"_

_Zurzak threw back his head and actually laughed. A laugh that made Dernwyn stop and stare horror-struck at him._

_"It amuses me to no end how you still think you can give me any orders," the wildcat sneered. "Your father is dethroned and my prisoner. I have conquered your kingdom. I have a whole army at my back. I am by far stronger than anybeast here. I am the one who gives orders here, not you! And that means," he added, bringing his face closer, "that you are my little prince."_

_Dernwyn growled as he tried to hide his fear, struggling to break free. "No I'm not! Now let go!"_

_Moving with the speed of lightning, the wildcat pinned the young marten to the wall, holding him up so that their eyes were level with each other._

_Zurzak's glittering eyes bored into Dernwyn's, making them water._

_"I am now King around here. It is I who gives the orders now. You have no power over anything."_

_One of the wildcat's clawed paws closed itself around Dernwyn's neck. The young marten gasped and clutched at the claws, trying to pry them loose._

_"Stop trying to fight me," Zurzak hissed. "You are weak. You can never hope to defeat me. And yet, it is I who you can rely on, remember? Nobeast cares for you, not even your father. But I still do... but I won't if you keep on trying to rebel."_

_For the first time in his whole life, Dernwyn felt unbearably hot. The black robes of the wildcat was smothering him, and the strong claws were slowly closing off his air._

_"Such a delicate thing," droned the big cat. "I could very easily break your slender neck right now."_

_Dernwyn gasped, staring pleadingly into the slitted green eyes... then the clawed paw released its hold on his neck. The marten breathed in deeply, sobbing... and then gasped again when the same paw crawled its way up Dernwyn's face, towards his eyes. The young marten struggled weakly and cried, but all to no avail._

_"Shhh," said Zurzak softly, wiping away the tears. "I'm sorry, little prince, forgive me. But you really must understand. You only keep your title just because I say so. That way you are not at the mercy of the entire kingdom. So don't try to leave, little prince. Don't try to get me to forsake you. Just stay with me. Stay."_

_As Zurzak spoke, everything seemed to grow darker._

_"Stay with me," the wildcat whispered._

_Dernwyn suddenly realized just how hard it was to keep his eyes open. His eyelids seemed so heavy..._

* * *

"Miru? Come on, sleepyhead, it's time to eat."

* * *

_Something was sliding across his body. Something smooth and soft, sliding as if it were water. It must have been water because Dernwyn was beginning to feel the warmth leave him. Moaning in protest, the half-asleep marten waved his paws about, trying to put an end to whatever it was that was taking away the heat. He felt his paws brush against something warm and hard..._

_Dernwyn gasped in surprise, opening his eyes wide to see he was touching Zurzak's horrific face._

_The young marten jerked his paws away, choking back a disgusted scream._

_Zurzak, however, only smiled - a horrible, horrible smile. "Good morning, little prince. Its high time you were awake. You've been asleep for two days."_

_Dernwyn blinked. "Two days?"_

_"Yes, and you really must get something to eat, and get washed," the wildcat said, pulling back the blankets._

_The young marten struggled to get away, but his arms were seized by those horrible claws once again. Dernwyn was pulled off the bed and dragged across the floor towards the washroom, where a tub full of steaming water awaited._

_"Hurry up and bathe yourslef," Zurzak ordered, setting the pine marten near the tub. "I'll have the guards give an order that your breakfast is to be served in your room. And don't take too long, or I'll be tempted to wash you myself."_

_And with that, the big cat was gone._

* * *

"Miru... hey, little mate, c'mon, you gotta eat. Stop sleeping."

* * *

_Dipping himself into the steaming warm water, Dernwyn made certain to wash himself carefully and quickly, not wanting to find out if Zurzak was serious about what said about washing the pine marten himself. His bony paws trembled as he tried not to fumble with the foamy soap. Normally he would've enjoyed, even basked, in the liquid warmth of the bath, but now... now he felt terribly exposed and wanted to get dried and dressed as quickly as possible._

_Finally he finished scrubbing and rinsed himself down, and, wrapping a towel around himself, was just about to get out of the tub (trembling at the severe chill that washed over him as he did), when the door opened... and Zurzak came back in._

_Dernwyn gave a startled shriek, huddling back into the bathtub, taking the towel in along with him._

_The big wildcat stared at the young marten for a long moment, making Dernwyn feel even more frightened and embarrassed. He wrapped the now-drenched towel around himself, wishing fervently that Zurzak would go back out._

_But he didn't. _

_Instead, he stepped into the washroom and closed the door behind him._

* * *

"Mmm... I'm trying to sleep..."

"Didn't I just say to stop trying to sleep? You've done enough of that. Now come on, its time to get some vittles in you."

* * *

_"What are you doing?" Dernwyn cried, sinking as low as he could into the water while the demonic wildcat stepped closer. "Get out! Not even a king can do this!"_

_"I am merely fetching you a drier towel," Zurzak stated calmly. And indeed, the wildcat picked up another nearby towel and set it on the floor next to the tub. "Also, here are some new clothes," he added, holding up some linen robes of dark red and black. "Wear these, and try not to take long. Your breakfast is here."_

_"Yeh-yes, thank you," the pine marten said, still trying to cover his entire self with the wet towel. "Now... please... please... please just go away!" He couldn't repress the shrill cry any longer._

_An even shriller cry escaped when Zurzak reached forward and stroked his ear with one claw. The big wildcat chuckled. "When are you going to trust me?"_

_Dernwyn didn't answer. _

_Finally Zurzak made his exit._

* * *

"Alright, Skip, alright... I've just got to... wake up..."

* * *

_Washed, dried, and freshly clothed, the young marten was then lead to the table in his room, where he was firmly set in a chair. The table was laden with a plate, a knife and fork, a water-filled goblet, an empty goblet, and two trays with large silver lids, along with what looked like a wine bottle._

_Standing behind the young marten, Zurzak placed his claws firmly on Dernwyn's lean shoulders to keep him from rising._

_"Sit still, little prince," the wildcat warned. "I know its very hard for you to eat, ever since you saw what happened to your mother. But I have no intention of allowing you to starve yourself."_

_Before the young marten could say that he didn't starve himself, Zurzak reached forward and seized the water-filled goblet, holding it towards Dernwyn's face._

_"Some water first. Drink up."_

_Swallowing, the pine marten obeyed, taking the cup in two thin, slightly shaking paws. Reaching over the young marten's head, the wildcat lifted the lids from the two trays, revealing dishes of savory cooked vegetables and small, sweet-looking pies._

_After Dernwyn took a good drink of the water, Zurzak put both of his paws on the back of Dernwyn's seat and, with a light shove, pushed the marten closer to the table._

_"Go on, eat," Zurzak said. It sounded more like an invite rather than a command._

_Dernwyn looked at the food in disgust. "How do I know its not poisoned?"_

_Suddenly he gasped in pain as Zurzak pushed him against the table harder, the table's edge threatening to slice through his flesh._

_"If I wanted you dead, I would have done so already," the big wildcat hissed warningly. "Now eat. I had it all made specially for you."_

_Swallowing, the young marten picked up the knife and fork with trembling paws and set into the food. Dernwyn ate with little appetite, despite the fact the food was delicious. He was barely a quarter of the way done with the vegetables before he set down his fork._

_"I can't eat anymore," he said, slumping backwards a bit._

_"You hardly ate," Zurzak growled. "Come now, you need your nourishment. You're too thin."_

_Dernwyn shook his head. "I can't. I'll burst."_

_The wildcat sighed. He pushed the dessert tray closer to the marten and poured some wine into the goblet. "Well, then at least try to eat some of this. Just a little," he said with surprising gentleness._

_Dernwyn complied, taking a few bites out of the pie, though it was a bit too sweet after all those vegetables. He set down his fork again and leaned back, holding his stomach, which felt as though it would burst._

_Suddenly he felt the wildcat's claws curl around his paw. Dernwyn gasped but soon realized that Zurzak was merely putting the goblet back in his paw. The wildcat poured some more wine into the other goblet and sat down in the chair next to Dernwyn, watching him over the brim of his cup._

_Dernwyn shied away from the cat's gaze, sinking back into his chair, still holding the goblet._

_"Drink," Zurzak said, holding his cup in a way so that he would not have to bend his head and cease looking at the pine marten._

_Trembling, the young marten took a sip from the wine and promptly set it down, pulling a face at the strong, bitterish taste._

_The wildcat laughed, that creepy, hollow chuckle. "Too strong, eh? Well... I suppose you'll be wanting to know what happened while you were asleep."_

_Dernwyn remained silent, and after a moment, nodded._

_"Well, first of all... we held a funeral for your brother."_

_The young marten looked up sharply, his eyes wide._

_"I thought it wouldn't be necessary for you to have to bear with the whole thing," Zurzak went on, "so I let you go on sleeping. I suppose the shock of what had been going on was too much for you._

_"We also held funerals for all the fallen soldiers as well. Many families were sorely grieved over the loss of their loved ones. In fact, a few of them were murmuring against your father, saying they were glad he was no longer king... even saying they wished he had been conquered sooner."_

_Dernwyn's ears twitched and his heart burned, yet he didn't know why._

_"I also sent out scouts to see about the enemy horde, if they were still going to attack, or if their losses were as great as ours', and are going to leave. _

_"...I think you might be happy to know that the second case is how things are. The enemy horde has indeed left for good; they took just as many losses as we did, if not more. We don't have to worry about any invasion for now."_

_Silence from Dernwyn._

_Soon silence was all there was in the room._

_Then the door burst open._


	10. Season Long Nightmares part 4

**Chapter 10**

_"Chief! Chief!" shouted the rat who just ran in._

_"I thought I said I didn't want to be interrupted," Zurzak growled, tightening his grip on his goblet._

_The rat scurried over to the table, gasping for air. "There's - a - disturbance - down in - the - dungeons! Orrick - a villager- he was - crazed-"_

_Zurzak set down his goblet. "What do you mean? What villager-?"_

_Dernwyn, however, broke away from his seat and ran past the rat, ignoring the wildcat's shouts and making his way towards the dungeons._

_The young marten's feet slapped painfully against the stone floor as he raced down the hallways, his heart pounding against his ribcage, and as he neared his destination, the sound of screaming and yelling slowly filled his ears._

_When he arrived at the dungeons, it wasn't empty like last time, but teeming with life: soldiers and servants were huddled at the entrance, sounds of violent scuffling echoing off the walls. Struggling against the bigger bulks, Dernwyn squeezed his way past, pushing and jostling as much as he could._

_It was very much like how whenever Kirin returned from some war: Dernwyn would push his way through the crowds to get to his brother, and the two of them would embrace amidst the cheering beasts. Now..._

_...now what he saw at the end of the forest of shouting beasts were three strong-looking soldiers, taking a hold of a wild-eyed weasel, who was screaming at the fallen, bloodied form of Orrick._

_"He killed them!" the weasel was shrieking, foaming at the mouth. "He killed them! My children, he killed them! He stole them away and sent them to their deaths, he killed them, he killed them! He deserves to die, he deserves to die, let go of me, let go-"_

_"SILENCE!"_

_At Zurzak's command, silence reigned, save for the weasel's grunts as he tried to free himself._

_Behind him, Dernwyn barely heard the heavy footsteps of the big wildcat. He barely felt the large paws rest on his shoulders, or heard the cold, emotionless voice._

_"Now... what is going on here? Somebeast see to Orrick, get a healer."_

_"This weasel snuck into the castle, lord," said one of the soldiers, a fox, who was holding the weasel. "I don't know how, but he somehow got a hold of the keys, and came down here and..." He glanced uncertainly at Orrick, who was feebly moving as a couple of healer-foxes tried to see what could be done._

_"He deserved it!" the weasel spat. "Its because of him my children are dead! My son and daughter are dead and gone, they died fighting his stupid war! All of our sons and daughters are dead because of him! He-"_

_"He was once your king," Zurzak interrupted. "A king you once swore your allegiance to-"_

_"Well no more!" the weasel shrieked._

_"Orrick suffered his own loss," the wildcat replied. "He lost his son, and his wife. And now, you may have deprived his only remaining son of the only family member he has left."_

_The weasel turned scornful eyes on Dernwyn, and spat out, "What do I care about the crazy little-"_

_He got no farther, for Zurzak released his hold on the young marten, ran over to where the weasel stood, and snapped his neck, all in a few deft movements._

_CRACK!_

_The sound reflected off the walls of silent dungeon, which somehow became even more silent._

_The wildcat turned to the horrified servants and soldiers, and spoke in his cold, emotionless tone, "The weasel is no longer separated from his son and daughter. Are there any who wish to join him?"_

_Silence never seemed to reign heavier._

_"Then don't ever let a thing like this happen ever again. You are all dismissed. And you three," he added to the three gaurds, who stood motionless over the weasel's dead body. "Dig a grave for him. Bury him next to his children, I suppose."_

_Within moments, the only creatures remaining in the dungeon were Zurzak, Dernwyn, and the two healers bent over Orrick._

_After another moment or so, Zurzak turned to the healers, and asked, "Well? How is he?"_

_One of the vixens looked up slowly. "I'm afraid... I'm afraid his wounds are too grievous, my lord. He won't..."_

_A sound finally escaped from Dernwyn. It was a sound somewhere between a choked gasp and a sob._

_Zurzak's eyes flickered from the young marten back to the vixen. "You are sure?"_

_The other vixen sat up, shaking her head sadly. "He... doesn't have much long to..."_

_"Get away from him!"_

_Dernwyn threw himself at his father's side, bony paws shaking like mad. The healers discreetly made room and left the dungeons, knowing their presence was no longer needed._

_"Dad! Dad!" the young pine marten cried, resting his trembling paws on his father's blood-covered chest. This couldn't be happening, it couldn't be, no, it couldn't..._

_Orrick's eyes fluttered open, and Dernwyn was amazed at their color: so dark and yet they shimmered blue. So beautiful, so... so sad..._

_"D-Dern-w-wyn..." the older pine marten groaned, his bleeding lips parting into a smile, but his eyes glittered with tears. "I'm... so... s-sorry..."_

_Dernwyn wished he wouldn't start crying now; he wanted to see his father's beautiful face clearly. "Dad, no, don't..."_

_"I'm sorry," Orrick repeated, his voice slightly stronger. "I never... should have... wished..."_

_The younger marten shook his head. "No, don't, don't even think about it, you're going to live, you can't die too, don't leave me alone, please don't leave me alone, not again..."_

_"I... can't... I... can't..."_

_"Please, Dad, just... just try. Please, please, just... just try..."_

_"I... love... you... son... my... wonderful... wonderful... son..."_

_"Dad..."_

_"Son - please... I ask... your... forgiveness. I can't... let... things end..."_

_"Then don't let it end, Dad, please..."_

_"Please... forgive... me... please... I'm sorry... so, so sorry..."_

_Dernwyn sobbed. A heavy lump had risen in his throat so that he was unable to speak._

_"Please, son. I don't have... much... time..."_

_The young marten swallowed and choked out, "Yes - yes, I forgive you, Dad, I know you didn't mean it, I understand why, I love you too, please don't leave me, Dad, don't leave me... Dad? Dad? DAD!"_

_Orrick's eyes darkened. His body became cold and limp._

_Dernwyn's whole body trembled violently. "DAAAAAAAD!"_

_His scream echoed off the dungeon's damp, merciless walls. His eyes were blinded by the water they produced. The young marten laid his head down on his father's chest, as though trying to find a heartbeat..._

_...but there was none. His heart would never beat again._

_Dernwyn just laid there, his arms draped over his father's body, still not comprehending, still not fully believing, that his family, his entire family... was gone..._

_Then he heard footsteps._

_Large, heavy footsteps, coming towards him._

_"Dernwyn..."_

_The young marten slowly raised his head, and saw Zurzak towering above him._

_Tears poured freely down Dernwyn's cheeks as he glared hatefully up at the wildcat._

_"You," he breathed. "You MONSTER!"_

_The young marten threw himself at the big cat, screaming, striking out, wanting nothing more than to hurt him. To make him feel pain, to make him bleed, to make him wish he'd never been born!_

_Dernwyn's flailing arms were caught by strong clawed paws._

_Zurzak's hollow voice tried to sound soothing. "I know you're upset, little prince."_

_Dernwyn screeched and struggled in the wildcat's grasp. "Upset? You killed my father! You killed him! It was you who turned the whole village against him! If it wasn't for you he'd still be alive! I HATE YOU!"_

_"Dernwyn, please..."_

_"SHUT UP! DON'T! Don't speak to me! Just let me kill you! I hate you! I HATE YOU!" The pine marten shrieked and raged, a frenzy overtaking his frail body, a wildness he never felt before driving him to sink his claws into Zurzak._

_But no amount of insane anger could had added to Dernwyn's strength to make him overpower the mighty wildcat. Zurzak hoisted the fiercely struggling marten off of his footpaws and carried him out of the dungeon, managing to pin his arms to his sides._

_The world passed through Dernwyn's eyes in strange haze: a sea of shocked faces as he was taken back up to his room; the sound of Zurzak issuing orders that Orrick was to be given a proper burial next to his oldest son and wife; the feel of the wildcat's smothering black robes..._

_Soon he was back in his room, being forced onto his bed before Zurzak turned and marched back out._

_"This is for your own good," the wildcat said before he slammed the door shut, before Dernwyn could get back out._

_Ca-clink._

_The door was locked._

* * *

"Miru, aren't you awake yet?"

"...yes. I'm awake now."


	11. Season Long Nightmares part 5

**Chapter 11**

"That's better," smiled Rorac. "Having you awake and eating is a lot better than you sleepin' away the winter."

"Its not like I'm missing out on any sunshine," Miru retorted, half-smiling as he sipped his soup. His cold was getting better, so he wasn't sneezing as often.

The big otter chuckled. "But you sure are missing out on some good snowball throwing!"

"Ugh, Skip, please," the young marten said, shuddering and taking a bigger spoonful of warm vegetable soup.

"Well, just you wait 'til we get some fat on you! Then I'll take you ice-skating next winter."

Miru blinked up at the otter chieftain. "Ice... skating?"

Skipper seemed surprised. "You mean you've never heard of ice-skating, little mate? Slap me rudder, you don't know what you're missin'!"

"As long as what I'm missing out on is cold, I have no complaint."

Once again the otter chuckled, and the marten joined in. Miru was able to hold his spoon on his own now, which was quite a relief; he didn't like being fed like a baby.

"But you sure were hard to wake up earlier. What were you dreaming about?"

"Oh... nothing. I was just... sleeping, really."

"You mumbled in your sleep a bit."

"Well then," Miru answered sharply. "If I _did_ dream, then I don't remember what I was dreaming about, alright?"

For a moment silence hung in the room.

Finally Skipper spoke. "...I'm sorry, mate."

Miru set down his spoon. "No, I'm sorry, Skip. I just... I just don't want to talk about it."

"I understand, matey. It was none of my business, either. I won't ask anything about it again."

"Thanks, Skip."

The marten looked up at the otter, and saw that his handsome face was breaking out into that warm smile that was beginning to mean so much to Miru. The young marten returned the smile, and for the slightest, smallest space of time, Dernwyn and Kirin were alive again and reunited...

"You better get on with that soup, little mate. It'll get cold."

One blink later, and the two brothers were dead and gone again, and in their place were Miru and Skipper Rorac.

"Right. Thanks, Skip."

* * *

_Dernwyn flung himself at the door, knowing full well and not caring that it was locked. He struggled with handle, pummeled his fists against the wood, kicked and scratched as though he could tear his way through, screamed and hollered, but to no avail._

_The frenzy that had overtaken the young marten wouldn't let up, though. He turned on his bedroom, overturning chairs and tables, ripping blankets and pillows from the bed, tearing down tapestries and throwing vases and pitchers at the walls and mirrors._

_This could have gone on for hours, or years even, Dernwyn didn't know. In fact, what happened in that space of time would be forever lost to the marten, for he had lost all sense of reason. Rage and grief were the only things he could comprehend, insanity overtaking his mind, a strange surge of adrenalin coursing through his thin body, painting the whole world before his eyes a deep shade of bloody red._

_When the strange feeling wore out and reason came back to him, Dernwyn found himself lying amongst the ruins of his bedroom. Everything was either ripped, broken, or shattered... just like his heart. Just like his mind._

_The frail young pine marten lay there on the floor, breathing... just breathing..._

_And then he got up._

Mother... Dad... Kirin...

_They were gone... all gone... all were... dead..._

_...and so was he._

_As if in a trance, Dernwyn walked towards the window, and opened it, peering out._

_There it was, the great big world... a place where he could run away... and never return from..._

_Yes, that was it. That's what he would do. He had been wanting to do this for a long time anyway, so why not now? Why not leave this place now? He could run away, run far... far away..._

_Still behaving like he was in a trance, the young marten turned back to the room and gathered together all the sheets, blankets, and tapestries that he had rent to shreds earlier. He then went to work, braiding them together in a long, thick rope._

They do this in stories... I never once thought I'd be doing this myself,_ the marten mused to himself. He had once discussed doing such a thing with Kirin, but had never had the courage to do it... until now._

_Finally the rope was done. He tied one end to the bedpost nearest to the window, and was about to fling it out when he realized he would need to get together some necessities before departing._

_So Dernwyn set about searching for things he would need: tinder and flint, a lantern, sturdy sandals, some extra robes and a heavy cloak. The young marten paused, and realized he would have to take some food and water. But the only ones available were the ones that he had just thrown all over the place._

_Dernwyn scurried about, trying to see if he could salvage any of the cooked vegetables or the pie from earlier, along with the pitcher of water. Fortunately he found that the pitcher had not been shattered, and that there was still some water in it. Remembering that he kept a canteen in his wardrobe (thanks to Kirin's advice), the young marten retrieved it and filled it up._

_He wasn't so lucky where food was concerned. Only a few vegetables could be saved, along with only a few scraps of the pie. Oh well, he'd just have to forage... not that he knew how to forage. Well, he did go foraging with Kirin once or twice when the weather was warmer. And he did have a book about foraging. He would have to take that along as well._

_Wrapping up what food he could find in some cloths, Dernwyn crammed it all, along with the book, into a small haversack he had kept in case Kirin took him out for a stroll in the woods. He then stood up, weighed down by the extra clothing and haversack._

_It suddenly occurred to the pine marten that he should take a knife with him, just in case. Once again Kirin helped him out here: he had once given his younger brother a small knife for protection, though Dernwyn had never used it. But now he might have to..._

_The marten retrieved the weapon, slipped it in his waist-sash, and flung the knotted rope out his window. Next he found a stool to stand on to help him climb out the window. As soon as he was sitting on the ledge, Dernwyn paused and looked down._

_Dernwyn had never had much of a head for heights, and sitting up there, looking all the down from the windowsill to the ground far below... it quite made his head spin. The young marten began to question his leaving the castle..._

But what's for you here?_ a voice questioned. _What have you got here?

_Swallowing, he took hold of the rope in his firmest grip and, making absolute certain not to look down, slung both legs out and lowered himself down._

_The strange shocked feeling that he had right now proved most essential in this moment, for the young marten found himself climbing down the rope with a calm steadiness that he never would have been able to summon in his normal mood. He pressed his footpaws against the stone wall, lowering one foot at a time, hoping that nobeast would see him or enter his room while he was still out here._

Please don't let anybeast see me, please don't let anybeast see me, please please please please...

_And quite suddenly, his footpaw felt something solid that wasn't the wall._

_Looking around, Dernwyn realized that he had reached the ground! Feeling rather dazed that he himself had accomplished such a feat, the young marten pulled up his hood and scurried into the village, once again praying that he wouldn't be spotted._

_Skirting the public streets and skulking along the more deserted ones, Dernwyn found himself finally at the village's gates. He was surprised to have seen or heard nobeast on his way. It wasn't even close to dusk, surely not everybeast was inside already?_

_However, as he carefully approached the gate, the young pine marten became aware of the large group of animals in the distance. At first Dernwyn didn't understand... but then he realized that they were all gathered at the place where the dead were usually buried._

_A fresh feeling of sickened grief overcame the young marten, knowing that the villagers were burying his father. Suddenly he wondered if he should sneak over, and pay his last respects to Orrick?_

_...No, somebeast might take notice of him and recognize him. He'd never escape if they did. No, he'd just have to use this as an opportunity to get away without any detection. He would just have to pay his respects from a distance._

_Hurrying outside the gates and making certain that he was out of the gatherings' sight, Dernwyn headed in a southwestern direction, where the nearest forest was. There he'd be able to completely hide from sight, and he would continue on, and never come back, never never never..._

_A slight rumbling from up above made Dernwyn glance up - and felt a small drop of water on his face. Rain._

...Good. That'll cover my tracks. Kirin always said that rain is an escaped beast's best friend...

_The rumbling became louder, and the raindrops became larger, both in size and in quantity._

Yes, yes, rain, please, yes!

_The young marten then broke out in a full run, his footpaws slamming painfully into the earth, his arms pumping for more speed, the veil of rain beginning to mask the way ahead._

This is like that dream I had...


	12. Come Bearing Gifts

**Chapter 12**

The sun had set. Snow was beginning to fall. Tired dibbuns were put to bed by the yawning Brothers and Sisters of the abbey. Father Abbot wished them all a good night as he went to nestle down in his own warm cot. The moles were soon snoring, the hedgehogs curled up into spiky balls, and squirrels wrapped their brushes about themselves.

Sister Grace, clad in nightgown and nightcap, settled down in the bed in her office after doing a last-minute check-up on her patient, and, one blown-out candle later, was asleep like everybeast else in Redwall.

Everybeast except two.

Friar Tumble, the squirrel friar, was still up, fussily seeing to all the left-overs and still-baking foods. There were times when even he was stunned at how much food could be produced at the abbey. Sometimes Tumble worried that all the cakes, pies, breads, puddings, crumbles, soups, stews, casseroles, flans and tarts that he so painstakingly made every day would go to waste. Granted, he never _saw_ any of those things go to waste, though he suspected that his kitchen-helpers made certain that he never did.

For this reason, Friar Tumble encouraged the abbeybeasts to snack in between meals, just so none of his creations would ever go bad and be thrown out (one of his biggest fears). Which was why he was quite pleased when he realized that there was another beast inside his kitchen.

The squirrel could tell there was somebeast else in the room, he could feel a pair of eyes watching him intently. Whipping his head around, he caught sight of a brown, whiskery face disappear from around the doorway.

"I know you're there," the friar called out cheerfully. "Come on out, there's no need to hide. If you want something to eat, by all means, come in!"

For a moment, nobeast came. Then the big, brawny form of Skipper Rorac came tentatively into the kitchen.

Friar Tumble laughed. "Why, Skipper of otters! I never expected you to be acting like a naughty dibbun caught in the act! Come on in, I'll fix you something up. Something nice and tasty. I believe we have some maple scones left over..."

"Aye, thankee, Friar," Skipper replied as he settled down at a table, a smile forming on his handsome face.

"Now let's see," the fat squirrel said, rummaging around the shelves and larders. "There are some apple tarts right here, along with some powdered cakes. Oh, and here's some maple-iced pie! Its preserved plum and apple, all covered in maple frosting. I'll cut you an extra big slice!"

The big otter chuckled as the friar laid out food after food after food before him. "Heh heh, with the way yer pilin' up here, Friar, I'd have a great big ring o' fat around my middle!"

Tumble grinned. "Aye, and if it was I who made you fat, every male in this abbey would be grateful to me to their dying days!"

Skipper raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Haha, you don't see it, do you? Males look at you and despair, because they know that the female they fancy would prefer you over them any day!"

Skipper rocked with laughter. "Hahahahahahahahaaharr! What a joker y'are, Tumble. Ah, never mind. Er, would you mind if I didn't eat this all right away?" he added, gesturing at the small feast the friar was laying out.

It was time for Tumble's eyebrows to go upwards. "Oh?"

"I was hoping to get back up to the infirmary soon, just in case Miru wakes up."

"Ahh," the squirrel nodded, smiling. "I see. Well, in that case, go right ahead. Would you like some help carrying this up?"

"No thanks, Friar. Um, would you mind if I had just a little bit more? Just in case Miru gets hungry too?"

Tumble's eyebrows went upwards again. Miru? Hungry? From what he heard, the pine marten had the appetite of a fly! He had only seen Miru once when he, along with all the other Redwallers, snuck a glance when the marten first came to the abbey, and the young thing looked like he barely ate anything.

Nevertheless, after looking a moment longer at Skipper's sincere smile, the chubby squirrel smiled widely. "Absolutely, Skip. Take all you need!"

After all, there was nothing Friar Tumble liked more than somebeast eating his food.

Skipper Rorac watched as the yawning squirrel made his out of the kitchen. "Good night, Skip. Thank you for promising to turn out all the lights. Enjoy those snacks."

"Good night. And thank you."

* * *

As soon as the friar disappeared through the doorway, the otter eased out of his chair and stepped softly over to the door, peeking around the corner. He watched Tumble head down the hall and up the stairs, the light from his candle fading slowly away.

As soon as all was dark and quiet again, Skipper turned back to the kitchen and went to work, snatching up a large satchel and placing it on the table. He began filling it with all the food the friar had given him, making certain all was carefully wrapped. The bag was filled halfway when the otter finished. Remembering Tumble telling him to "help himself," Skipper scoured the kitchen for any other left overs that he could add.

Finally, once the satchel was all filled up, the otter slung the strap over his shoulder, blew out all the lights, and made his way up to the Great Hall. There, he stepped behind one of the pillars where he picked up another satchel, which had been hidden there earlier by him. He also picked up two cloaks he had hidden there as well; one was neat and reddish, the other ragged and greenish-brown. He placed the red cloak around his shoulders, and placed the green over the red.

After making certain that each satchel was secure and hidden beneath the cloaks, Skipper quietly walked over towards the door. Easing it open, he hoped like always that it wouldn't wake anybeast up. Though there was always the chance they'd be awakened by his hammering heart.

It was still snowing, which was a good thing, meaning that his tracks would soon be covered. Thank goodness so many other beasts had been outside earlier as well; it made his own footprints less conspicuous. Trotting across the snow-laden lawn, the otter made his way over to the southern wallgate. After opening it, he stuck his head out, looking this way and that, sniffing the air carefully.

Sensing nobeast about, Skipper slipped out carefully so that the gate locked behind him. He always made certain that it did; if ever any enemies made their way inside the abbey because of him...

As soon as he was satisfied that the door had locked, the otter was away into the trees like a shot. If anybeast had tried to follow the Skipper, they would have lost him within a short time: the path he took had so many twists and turns that even Skipper himself was occasionally bewildered by it.

He only knew it because it had been carefully explained to him several times, and he was only able to take it so easily after seasons of long practice. Finally, Skipper arrived at his destination.

Crouching down next to a leaning tree, he peered across a very small clearing at a very large oak tree. To anybeast else, it was just another tree in the wintry forest. But not to Skipper.

After taking another careful sniff at the air and straining his eyes and ears for anybeast who may be watching, the otter sped over towards the oak. He kneeled down next to a hollow beneath the tree that was barely visible, and called out softly, "Rasouk?"

A paw suddenly shot out from the hole, seizing Skipper by the front of his cloak and pulling him sharply inside. The otter was then roughly pushed to the ground, a paw covering his mouth while a dagger was pressed against his neck.

Skipper made no move, taking shallow breaths as he waited for the beast on top of him to realize who he was. He then heard a chuckle.

"Ahh, Skip. So nice of you to drop by."

The knife and paw moved away from his neck and mouth, and the beast sat up. Skipper sat up as well, dusting a little at his cloak, turning to look at the other: a fox, male, clad in a ragged pair of breeches, handsome in a wily sort of way, with a lean, strong build.

"Sorry about the rude entrance," the fox said oily, sliding a claw along the blade's edge. "Gotta make sure that you're the only beast who knows where my little hideaway is, see?"

The otter nodded, his face grim. He knew that Rasouk knew very well that it was him.

"Well, let's see what you brought me this time. Come on," the fox, Rasouk, said as he headed down the narrow tunnel.

Skipper followed, keeping low until they reached the end, where a large room-sized burrow appeared. In it were small piles of blankets, trinkets, and some scraps of food. In one corner was a lit lantern, casting a golden-ish light across the dirt-walls. It was into the wall that Rasouk stabbed his knife into before turning to the otter.

"Alright," Rasouk said, rubbing his paws briskly. "Let's see what y'got."

Skipper unslung the satchels from his shoulders and placed them on the floor. The fox bent down and opened one up, the one filled with food.

"Oh hoho! Oh yes!" Rasouk sank his claws greedily into the scones and tarts. "I haven't had any of these yet! Though I'm glad you brought some more o' these blackberry scones. Mmmm!" He sank his teeth into a piece of the apple and plum pie with maple frosting. "Oh hoho! Now this is the good stuff! Mmmm!"

He then reached into the other satchel and pulled out some old blankets that had been recently patched up. "What, just one bag of food?" the fox complained. "Ah well. You did bring me more blankets, that's good."

Rasouk tossed the blankets onto the pile of others, and turned back to the otter. Without a word he unclasped the green-brown cloak and whipped it off Skipper's shoulders, inspecting it closely.

"Huh," the fox said, wrinkling his snout. "I said I wanted a nice cloak. Couldn't you do any better than this?"

"I brought you _this _cloak," Rorac said irritably, taking off the reddish cloak - which was swiftly snatched away by Rasouk.

"Hmm, yes, this one does fit the bill better," he nodded. And with that, he placed both cloaks onto the pile of blankets.

Skipper stepped forward in protest. "Hey, I brought you just the one-"

"I'll take both, thank you," Rasouk said with a note of finality.

Rorac, who was now clad only in belt and kilt, stared thunderstruck at the fox. "But I have to walk all the way back to the abbey-!"

"And there you will find yourself a nice warm bed next to a nice big fire inside nice thick walls, whereas _I_ have to stay out here in this tiny old burrow with only rags and a single flame to keep me warm."

The otter blew out his nose. "Fine. Then I'll be off-"

"Hold it, what's this nice belt?"

Skipper shielded his belt from the fox's prying claws. "Hey, I need this!"

"I just want to see it, Skip. Now hold still. Hmmm... nah, you keep it. It isn't exactly my style."

Rorac rolled his eyes, but was thankful that the fox hadn't insisted on taking it.

"By the by," Rasouk said before Skipper could turn to go. "Why don't you wear any more pawrings or tailrings anymore?"

"Because every time I come here wearing them, I leave without them!"

"Well, that's part of our agreement, isn't it?" the fox shrugged. "Next time you come back here, wear your rings, I'd like some more. Oh, but don't wear them all at once, just one at a time. That way you'll always have some little trinket to give to me every time you visit."

Skipper glared for a moment before saying through clenched teeth, "Very well."

"Also..."

The otter gave a small groan.

"...I'd like you to come back again tomorrow night with some extra blankets, and some more tinder and flint, I'm running out. And maybe a game or two, because I'm going to be stuck here in this place pretty much all winter. I'm liable to get bored."

_"Very well,_ is there anything else?"

"Yes, I think from now on, since its winter, you should come more often with food. Maybe every night?"

Skipper stared open-mouthed at the fox before crying, "Every night, are you insane? That's too much, I couldn't possibly-"

"Well, you're probably right," Rasouk said with a maddening smile. "The Redwallers would get suspicious. How about every other night, that might work out a little better, wouldn't you agree?"

Skipper took a deep breath and said, "Very well."

"Good," Rasouk smiled.

"And then will you be satisfied?"

The fox blinked and tilted his head. "With what?"

"I've been stealing all these things from the abbey for you-"

"Stealing? Why, my good Skipper, you're not stealing!" Rasouk said with a laugh. "From what I've heard, the abbey belongs to all who live there, isn't that true?"

"Yes, but-"

"And isn't all that you've been taking from there just food and blankets? And aren't _those_ the type of things that are freely given at the abbey?"

"...Yes, b-"

"And all the earrings, the pawrings, and the tailrings, don't they all belong to you personally?"

"Well, yes-"

"Then how can you be stealing anything? The abbey has already been giving out free food and blankets ever since it came into existence. You're just following their example in helping out the cold and hungry. And as for the trinkets, they all belong to you in the first place, so you're at perfect liberty to give them away as you please. So, in conclusion, dear Skipper, you're not stealing. You're just giving me _gifts_ - out of the goodness of your kind lovin' heart. Isn't that right?" the fox ended with a grin.

Skipper took an even deeper breath. "Yes."

"Good," Rasouk said softly. "So you don't have to worry about stealin' stuff, because you aren't. I believe we've been over this before, haven't we? Well, no matter."

"But will you be satisfied after this winter is over?" Skipper asked.

Rasouk gave another maddening smile. "I will be satisfied when I say so. Now be off with you. You better get some sleep tonight, so you'll be able to have the energy to come back tomorrow night with _all_ the things I need."

The otter blew out his nose, turned away and headed towards the tunnel...

...only to stop and look back, eyes narrowed.

"Don't try my patience, fox. I mean it."

He turned, starting forward again-

-except he was seized from behind, Rasouk's paw once again clamping over his mouth while the other wrapped itself around his middle. Skipper stumbled backwards, arms flailing. The fox's voice, now harsh and growling, sounded in his ear.

"And may I remind you just _why_ you are doing all of this, Skipper of otters? Just _why_ you have come bearing gifts to me in the dark of night? Because you need me to keep my silence, that's why! Because you never want any of your precious abbey friends to find out about your secret, don't you? _Remember_?" he said sharply when the otter tried to pry himself loose. "Your _secret_? That thing you did all those seasons ago? The thing that was so terrible that if any of those peace-loving abbeymice ever found out about it... if any of your crew ever knew about it... if any of your friends or messmates or anybeast of Mossflower Woods ever knew what it was that you did on that day..."

The fox didn't finish, but he didn't need to. For a terrible vision passed before Skipper's eyes: a vision of every single Redwaller, of every single member of his loyal crew, of every single Mossflower animal he had ever known in his entire life... all of whom looked at him with the upmost respect, love, and trust... of them finding out that terrible act he committed on that day...

If any of them ever found out... if _Miru_ ever found out...

The otter stood there, lost in horrified thought at the possibilities; Rasouk's paw still over his mouth while the claws of his other paw traced lines on Rorac's bellyfur.

The fox smiled, enjoying the look of fear in Skipper's eyes. "Yes," he whispered into Rorac's ear. "They wouldn't be so willing to call you 'friend' after that, now would they? They wouldn't want anything to do with you. They wouldn't want you to be anywhere near their homes. They wouldn't want you to have ever been a part of their lives. And you certainly don't want that to happen, do you? You don't want to be cast out of their world with nobeast to call friend, do you? Do you?" he repeated softly.

The otter let out a shuddering breath through his nose, lowering his head and sagging his shoulders. Rasouk nodded, releasing his captive and stepping away from Skipper. "Good. I'm so glad we had this little discussion. Now get going. You need to get back at the abbey for some sleep."

Without a word, Skipper Rorac tore out of the burrow, as though getting away from the fox would get him away from those dreadful thoughts.

Chuckling, Rasouk huddled down on the floor, wrapping himself in the cloaks and blankets, drawing the lantern closer, as well as the satchel of new food. Life was good.

And when one had control over a Skipper of otters, life was perfect.


	13. The End of Nightmares?

**Chapter 13**

"I can't believe its springtime already," Miru marveled, looking wide-eyed at the sunlight-bathed infirmary. Up until then, the long, bed-filled room was cold, gray, dark and dreary, thanks to the winter season. But now, the windows were no longer snow-covered and ice-glazed, but clear and filled with green trees and blue skies. To anybeast else, the change wasn't so sudden, but to Miru, it seemed like it all changed overnight.

"Well, you better believe it, little mate," Skipper grinned as he began pulling back the pine marten's covers. "You slept through most of the winter, though we would've liked it if you had spent a little more time eating. No matter, its spring now. Its time to get you up and walking."

"Um, I'm not sure," Miru said, staring doubtfully at his still-bandaged leg.

"Oh come on, little mate," the otter urged, glancing around to see if Sister Grace was anywhere within hearing range. "Remember all those nights where we'd practice you standing and walking back and forth between the bed and me?"

Miru was forced to smile; it was a little secret of theirs' that Skipper got the pine marten to try to stand on his bad leg.

_Just for practice, y'know,_ had been Skip's exact words. At first Miru hadn't wanted to do, fearful that he'd upset his broken limb any further. But with Skipper urging him so vehemently and promising that he only wanted to try it once, the pine marten made a go of it, finally daring to move his leg. It hadn't hurt as much as he feared it would. It also didn't cause any agonizing pain when he tried to stand on it, although it was still a little tender.

After finding this out, Skipper then got his little marten friend to try and walk all the way from his bed to the next one, where Skipper himself was waiting with outstretched arms. Once again the otter had to do a bit of coaxing to get Miru to do it, though not quite as much as before.

And so Miru took a couple of feeble steps forward, before Skip suddenly swooped the pine marten up and set him back into bed, saying, "That's enough for tonight, matey. We'll try a little more tomorrow night, and every night after that until you're strong again."

However, they weren't able to practice _every_ night, as Miru would occasionally fall into very deep sleeps and could not be aroused for a long time.

"What d'you dream about that you can't be woken up?" Skipper once asked him. Miru would only shrug his bony shoulders.

Skipper, however, had a pretty good idea about what his little mate dreamt about much. More than once, the pine marten would scream in his sleep, crying out such things like, "Leave me alone! I want nothing to do with you!" or "Nooo! Kirin, I'm sorry! Please, Dad, make him stop, don't let him do it!"

But as distressing as those sayings were to Skipper, the eeriest ting Miru shouted was, "_Zurzaaak_! _Zurzaaak_! What have I done to you?"

When the pine marten shouted this enigmatic line, his voice was far more hoarse and choked with sobs than any other time. Rorac tried a few times to get Miru to talk about his dreams, thinking it would help. But Miru would always just shrug and say he didn't remember. It was quite maddening at times, but the otter knew he would have to be patient. Obviously something very terrible had happened to Miru while he was out wandering in the woods (and possibly before or during his family's death), and when he'd be ready to share what had happened, Skipper would be ready to listen.

But for now, he just wanted to get the little marten out of bed and into the sunshine.

"C'mon, little mate, it'll be fun to finally get you out of this boring old room and out where you can have some real fun! I'll introduce you to some friends of mine that're about your age, and you'll finally get the tour of the abbey that's given to all guests."

Meeting any new beasts didn't sound at all inviting to Miru. For many seasons he'd been leery of creatures his age. It was they who made up songs about him, mocking him, teasing him, calling him "Crazy Prince", or "Prince Crazy." But it was hard to voice any doubts when Skipper looked so excited and cheerful. That was how Miru wanted Skipper to always be, and never like how he was that one night...

There had been one night, and one night alone, when it had been Rorac with the nightmare, and not Miru.

It happened not long after Miru started practicing how to walk again. The young marten found himself suddenly jerked from his slumber by a soft, mournful wail.

Still half-asleep, the startled pine marten thought it was some nighttime monster, only to realize that it was Skipper of all creatures making that awful sound. The large otter was huddled up in the bed next to Miru's, grappling with some unseen foe, twisting the blankets and pounding his pillow. A lot of what he said sounded like drivel, save for the occasional "N-no! Nooo!" thrown in.

Startled at seeing his friend like this, Miru threw back his covers and, ignoring his throbbing leg, limped over to the otter's side and began shaking him, whispering, "Skip! Skip, wake up! Skip!"

The otter whimpered piteously, waving his paws about feebly, and Miru thought he saw tears on the otter's cheeks. Finally, after a few more shakes and desperate whispers, Skipper woke up, wide-eyed and breathing deeply. The young marten watched him for a moment before carefully wrapping his arms around the otter's broad shoulders and patting his head, while Skipper gave small sobs and returned the embrace.

The tables were turned. Now it was Miru who was the comforter, and Skipper the victim. It had only happened that one night, though it made a lasting impression of the pine marten.

Never again did he want his friend and helper to be like that again: scared, lost, helpless. No, he wouldn't allow it.

"...and then you'll get to see the belltower and the tapestry and don't get me started on all the feasts!" Skipper was saying as Miru mulled over the previous events.

"Not before I get the bindings off his leg, Skipper," Sister Grace said as she trundled into the room, bearing a sturdy-looking cane. "Goodness me, I'm going to miss having you here, Miru. I imagine that after today you'll want to stay in a guest room or maybe one of the dormitories with all the other youngbeasts."

"Oh, I don't know about that," the pine marten said, managing a feeble smile. "I think I might want to take the guest room. Provided that Skipper stays with me," he added, grinning at the otter, who chortled.

"Sure I will, matey! I've still gotta keep an eye on you, y'know."

"And I imagine, before you go down," said Sister Grace as she carefully undid the marten's bindings, "that you'll want a nice bath and fresh clothes. After all, we weren't able to give you a proper washing since you first came here, and, well..."

"That would be nice," Miru agreed, saving the motherly hedgehog the trouble of saying the obvious: the pine marten, though he'd managed to get a bit of scrubbing over the past couple of seasons, was a little ripe-smelling. And a bath did sound good, he hadn't had one since...

The young marten pushed that particular memory aside as Sister Grace freed his leg.

"There you go, Miru! And here, take this," she said, handing over the cane. "Just something to lean on, because I'm pretty sure your leg will still take a little more time to fully heal."

"Thank you, Sister," smiled Miru, taking the offered item. Planting one end on the floor, the pine marten stood up, leaning slightly on his newfound support.

"There y'go," said Skip with a grin. "How d'ye feel?"

"Like an oldbeast."

Both otter and hedgehog laughed.

After one soothing bath and donning a refreshing new green habit, Miru stood before the door that led out of the infirmary, the one place that had been a sort of home to him for the past two seasons.

"Y'look good, little mate," chirped Skipper, clapping the skinny pine marten on the back. "Like a real Redwaller! Welp, shall we step through the door, or do you want to admire it just a little bit more?"

Miru gave a small laugh. "I'm sorry, I'm just... I guess I'm just nervous."

"I suppose you would be, considering how you're starting off on a new life here. But don't you worry, little mate," the otter said, putting one arm around the young marten, "I'll protect you."

Miru looked up into Skipper's reassuring smile, and remembered that one night where Skipper wept in despair...

No. That would never happen again. Miru would make certain of that. And he would start by bravely going forth to meet the rest of this Redwall Abbey.

There would be no more nightmares.


	14. A New Life Almost Ended

**Chapter 14**

"Ah, so this is the famous Miru!" Marok said, holding forth a friendly paw. "We've been wondering so much about you!"

"Hurr, but doan't'n you'm worry about us'ns pesterin' you'm with gurt questions, zurr marten," Soilburr said, tugging his nose respectfully. "Skip told us'n that we're to bee mindin' our own buzyness, hurr arr!"

"I didn't say it quite like _that,"_ Skipper said with a lopsided grin.

Amid the general laughter, Miru accepted Marok's proffered paw, a bit taken aback by the mouse's sturdy pawshake. He next accepted the paw of a squirrel, who introduced himself as Rocc.

"I'm probably the only sane one in this group, by the way," the squirrel said with a small smile.

"More like the wimpiest, I'd say!" laughed Marok, elbowing his friend in the ribs.

"Says the mouse who can't stand heights!"

"Alright, mates, that'll do," said Skipper. "Now, I told Miru here that he would get a tour of the abbey."

"Well come on, then, Miru," said Marok, again holding out his paw. "Who better to show you the abbey than the beasts who've grown up here their whole lives?"

* * *

From there, Miru found himself being whisked away to behold the most incredible structure he had ever seen. Redwall Abbey was not just a castle, it was a _city_, far larger and far more stately and beautiful than the castle he grew up in. But it was more than that... it had... warmth... security... love... all the things that his old home had before...

Realizing what he was thinking about, the young marten pushed the thoughts away and focused on what the others were saying as they showed him around.

First, they walked him through a place called The Great Hall, a stunningly magnificent high-ceilinged room, complete with long, stain-glass windows that cast a multitude of rainbows across the sandstone walls. Miru had never seen stain-glass before, and marveled greatly at it.

And it was here where they showed him the largest, most intricate tapestry, featuring a strong-looking, armored mouse with a heroic smile on his kind, handsome face. Looking at the mouse leaning casually against his mighty sword as his foes fled from him, Miru was suddenly reminded of Kirin-

-and quickly brushed that thought away as well.

"And this," said Marok, spreading one arm towards the armored mouse. "Is Martin the Warrior, one of the many founders of Redwall."

Soilburr grinned up at the tapestry, saying, "Hurr, he'm slayed ee gurt woildcat, 'e did! All by 'imself!"

Wildcat.

Miru suddenly felt very umcomfortable. It was a mistake to leave the infirmary, he-

-but then he felt Skipper's paw on his shoulder, and looked up to the otter's reassuring smile.

The pine marten smiled back. How could he think of going back to the infirmary when being out here made Skipper so happy? Creatures like Skipper didn't want to stay cooped up in an infirmary all day and all night. No, Miru would tough this out. They were just words, the things these other creatures were saying. Just words. They couldn't hurt him. Couldn't hurt him...

After half-listening to the legendary adventures of Redwall's Champion, the pine marten was lead through the many more rooms of the abbey. The next stop was a place called Cavern Hole, a much cozier room than Great Hall. Along the way they passed many other creatures clad in the green habit that Miru wore. Most of them eyed the pine marten with great interest.

_Creatures staring,_ Miru thought. _Feels just like home._

Surprisingly, however, these creatures greeted him with warmth and bade him welcome at the abbey. A far cry from how he'd been treated in his old life. And he wasn't even an authority figure! Although a part of him wondered if it was only because Skip was with him: back in his old life, no creature ever dared say anything negative about him when Kirin was present.

The pine marten didn't have time to dwell on this, thankfully, for he found himself being led into the abbot's study.

Miru had met the Father Abbot before, once or twice when the old mouse welcomed him to the abbey. He still marveled that this glorious big castle was ruled not by a king, but by an abbot. Surely such a fortitude ought to be led by a more forceful ruler?

_Then again, he does have Skipper and a whole crew of otters to take care of any battles,_ the young marten thought. Another feature remniscent of home.

They found the abbot scribbling something down at his desk when the group entered. The old mouse looked up and smiled. "Good morning, all. Ah, Miru!" He got up and stood before the pine marten. "So nice to see you finally up and about. Tell me, is your leg feeling any better?"

"A little. Thank you, Father Abbot," the young marten replied somewhat awkwardly. He still hadn't gotten quite used to calling a mouse he barely knew "father"; but as that was what everybeast referred to him as, Miru would do the same.

"We're giving him a tour of the abbey, Father Abbot," beamed Marok.

"Splendid, my dear fellows. Well, what do you think of Redwall Abbey so far, my son?" the abbot inquired, peering kindly at Miru though his round specatcles.

Being called "son" certainly had its mixed effects on Miru, but he would take it in stride. "I feel like I've seen everything, and yet they all keep on telling me there's more to see," the pine marten responded with a half smile.

And indeed there was more to see: a library (a rather quiet, comforting place, if a little dusty), the kitchens (a warm, wondrously-smelling room where they sampled some freshly baked tarts), the dormitories and guest bedrooms (Skipper pointed out a particular guest room where he and Miru would be sleeping from now on), and a belltower (no matter how much the others urged him, Miru refused to go up the stairs to get a better view of the bells). And that was only on the _inside_ of the abbey.

On the outside, the pine marten found himself facing a great big lawn that stretched towards another great sandstone wall set with a pair of magnificent gates, and was soon walking along the gardens (which were in full-bloom, reminding Miru of his mother's flower-boxes), the orchards (also in full-bloom), and a large sparkling lake that had a multitude of otters playing in it.

"Ahoy, Skip! Long time no see!" one of the otters called. "Have you quit playing nurseymaid, yet?"

Miru felt his fur prickle, but the otter chieftain only laughed in response. "I'm always playing nurseymaid, whether its to sick martens or to whiny otterbabes like yourself!"

"You'll love our pond," Marok said to Miru. "There's always something to do with it: ice skating in the winter, sailing, skipping stones and swimming in the warmer weather. Say, are you any good at skipping stones?"

"I've never tried it before," the pine marten answered.

"Never tried it before?" said Rocc with raised eyebrows.

"Hurr, ee doan't be a-knowin' wot ee bee missin," said Soilburr, shaking his head.

"Well, no time like the present, right?" smiled Marok. "Let's go over around that way so we won't hit anybeast!"

The group made its way to the other side of the pond where the otters were not playing. Marok, Rocc and Soilburr then went about searching for suitable skimming stones.

"The trick is to find a nice smooth rock," said Marok. "Like this one here, see? Then you just-" The mouse slung his arm back and forward in almost a blur, and the little stone went flying over the pond, actually _bouncing_ off the water.

Miru was amazed, but Rocc shook his head. "Pathetic. That only bounced four times. Let's see how a real stone-skimmer does it!"

The squirrel much of the same arm movement as Marok, only his stone went skipping five times.

"Wow, that's very impressive," said Miru, but Soilburr was grunting and shaking his head.

"Hurr, you'm bain't see noathin' yet, zurr marthen!" And with that, the little mole made his own shot, sending it bouncing across the lake one, two, three, four, five, _six_ times. Miru couldn't help but clap.

"But if you think _that's_ impressive," smiled Marok, "then you'll have to see our own dear Skipper go at it!"

"Ah, no, mates," the big otter pretended to whine, and the three young woodlanders practically fell on him with "Aw, come on Skip, pllleeeaaase? We haven't seen you skim stones in such a long while, I'll bet you'll be wanting to show you haven't lost your touch?"

"Yes, please," added Miru, smiling widely.

"Fine, fine," Rorac conceded, grinning. Picking up a stone and carefully considering the lake, he flung the stone out, skimming it one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, _twelve_ times!

Marok, Rocc and Soilburr cheered and clapped. Miru gaped. "How did you do that?" the young marten marveled.

The handsome otter grinned modestly and said, "Oh, its all the wrist, y'know. Plus I've been around water ever since I was born."

"Can you teach me how to do that?" Miru found himself asking this question without even thinking.

Rorac grinned even wider. "Sure thing, mate. We'll have you slingin' stones like a true riverdog in no time!"

And with that, the little group spent most of the day skimming stones, a practice that Miru had never heard of before... and couldn't help but wonder if Kirin would have been any good at it.

* * *

Life was different here at Redwall Abbey.

It was peaceful, quiet, and warm. Always warm. Nobeast looked at him like they thought he was crazy. He was always treated kindly, and there was always so much laughter going on.

Despite this, however, Miru still had some trouble adjusting to his new surroundings. Mealtimes were often held either in Cavern Hole, Great Hall, or the orchard, and always there was a big crowd. He preferred the much quieter meals that he and Skipper shared in the infimary. Plus there was also the fact that the marten found himself required to help out with the chores for the first time in his life.

At first, because of his leg, he was not expected to do anything strenuous, but as his injury got better, Miru became more and more familar with the dish sink.

"Don't worry, none of us fancies doin' the dishes," Marok reassued the marten over a considerably dirty pan. "But you'll get used to it. Eventually. I suppose we all will," he added with a wink.

And as welcoming as everybeast was, it got a little stifling after awhile, having to endure such happy creatures on a day to day basis. Some of them were forever patting him on the shoulder or on the back whenever they passed him. He knew it was kindly meant, but he wished everybeast would just keep their paws to themselves!

Except for Skipper, of course. Miru didn't mind if the otter patted him occasionally, but that was only because he was used to Skipper. At first Miru was worried that, now that he was up and about, Skip might try to get him to make friends with the other Redwallers so he could go back to playing in the lake with his fellow otters.

But that did not happen. Rather, Skipper seemed to stick closer to the pine marten more than ever, something which Miru was very relieved and grateful for. The otter made good his promise of sharing the same guest room as the young marten, and he always sat right next to Miru during mealtimes (always encouraging him to take one more bite of food). And in between those mealtimes, he, sometimes along with Marok, Rocc and Soilburr, would try to encourage the marten to go up onto the walltops and see the vastness of Mossflower woods; or to go up into the belltower so he could see the great bells up close; or to try to learn how to swim in the pond.

Miru could be convinced to go up onto the walltops, and was astonished by the endless mass of emerald-green treetops that surrounded the abbey. But he absolutely refused to go up that dark, narrow staircase in the belltower, and he was terrified of going near the lake.

"I can't, and I won't learn how to swim. I'll only sink and drown and that will be the end of me."

"You wouldn't sink if you learned how to swim, you'd be able to keep yourself afloat, mate," argued Skipper. "Besides, you'd have me right there by your side the whole time!"

But the pine marten would still shake his head. "Its too cold, I can tell. Water is always cold, and I can't stand being cold."

"You get used to it after awhile, you just have to keep moving."

"Well, I _can't_ keep moving in the water, I need my rest."

The big otter laughed. "Hahahaa! Ahh, you're a little pickle, sometimes, you know that, little mate?"

"I'd rather be a pickle than a drowned marten, I can tell you that."

"Very well, little matey. You don't have to learn how to swim. Though keep in mind, you'll wish you had once summer comes around, and you'll be _begging_ to be let into all that nice cool water."

"I doubt that," the marten smiled.

Skipper and Miru would do more than just argue over whether or not they should attempt daring feats. The two would also congregate in the library sometimes and read about the fascinating history of the abbey and its heroes. Though after awhile Skipper thought it would be better to take the books outside and read them by the rhododendron bushes on the far side of the pond. And sometimes they wouldn't even bring a book with them, but would just simply sit and talk, which Miru liked most of all. He liked talking with Skipper, who was always ready to laugh or to joke or to comfort. It was such a wonderful thing to do. Or sometimes they wouldn't even talk; they would just lie out in the sun and enjoy each other's company.

So all in all, life was different at Redwall Abbey... but it also had the comforts of home.

* * *

The Spring of the Peach Blossom, as the Redwallers were calling it, passed by without much incident. The weather was warm and sweet, filled with fragrant flowers and delicious meals. Even when it rained everything seemed happy, for the abbeydwellers were contented beasts who could find joy in just about anything.

Miru was lying by the rhododendron bush, happily watching as Skipper tusseled in the pond with the other otters. He would occasionally spur his otter-friend on, laughing whenever Rorac would dunk one of his crew, or if one of them dunked him. Miru never knew what a joy it was watching otters at play.

Just then, a kitchenmouse came to the edge of the lake, asking if Skipper and his otters would help move some tables out into the orchard for tea time. Rorac and his crew obliged, and, shaking themselves dry, went in to get the tables. Skipper did glance back over to see if Miru was alright, though; the marten smiled and waved to show that he was.

Sighing contentedly, the young marten laid back on the grass, reveling in the warm spring air. He had gained weight since coming to the abbey, though not nearly enough to be considered healthy; he was still on the thin side. Yet his fur had taken on a new sheen, his eyes a brighter sparkle. He was just beginning to doze off when the sounds of laughter and splashing woke him up.

Raising his head, the pine marten saw that the otters were not back; it was only a crowd of dibbuns (what the Redwallers called their little ones; a peculiar name, Miru thought) that had escaped an elder's watchful eye and were getting themselves in quite a mess. They were a funny lot, dibbuns. It always seemed that they were laughing at nothing in particular, and could make a game out of anything. As he watched them, Miru wondered if he had ever been that way...

Just then the sound of the abbey bells began to ring, signaling for tea time. Miru took a deep breath at the sound. The first few times he heard those two bells toll, they startled him, almost frightened him. But now they held an aura of security about them, as if they were reassuring the abbeydwellers that everything was alright. Only he still would not go up the staircase to look at them. Leave that to the squirrels.

The dibbuns left off their playing and scampered off, dripping wet, towards the building, where a group of reproving Brothers and Sisters surely awaited them. Miru smiled in amusement and decided that he wasn't quite ready to go inside yet; the sun's rays were far too welcoming.

He began to lie back down when something caught his eye. Looking back towards the lake, the pine marten saw that one of the dibbuns, a mouse, had returned to the water's edge in order to retrieve a ball he had dropped.

At first Miru didn't pay too much attention and laid his head back down... except something made him look up again. The little mouse was now up to his hips in the water, and steadily going in further as he tried to reach for his ball, which kept on being pushed out by the dibbuns' waves.

Miru sat up. He didn't think the little mouseling should be going out that far.

"Hey!" he called. "Hey there, don't go out that far, you might-!"

Suddenly the mouse was not there anymore.

Gasping, Miru ran around the lake, calling towards the abbey, "Hey! Help! _Heeelp!_ There's a dibbun drowning! Heeelp!"

Nobeast came from the building, and as Miru turned back towards the lake, he saw the dibbun's head struggling to surface, and heard a half-formed cry for help from the little mite. He looked back at the abbey; nobeast was coming. He looked again at the lake where the little mouse was wildly splashing. After a moment's hesitation, the pine marten stepped into the water. Which was just as cold as he predicted. Nevertheless, despite the cold, Miru put one footpaw after the other, knowing he had to get the mouse out of the water, and fast!

Wading as quickly as he could, Miru felt his heart jump into his throat as the water level climbed higher and higher around him, up past his knees, past his hips, up his stomach...

He was almost within arm's reach of the splashing dibbun. The marten squinted his eyes as he reached forth his arms to try and take hold of the small, struggling form.

He felt the mouse's smock and pulled it towards him, but the frightened, desperate dibbun began to scramble all over him, weighing the pine marten down until his own head was under the ice-cold water, driving it up his nose.

Coughing and spitting and choking and unable to fully gasp for air, Miru tried to keep himself and the mouse above the water, but, to his fright, he found that he was somehow suddenly being pulled further and further into the lake, as if the water itself was trying to drown him. Finally, without thinking, Miru found himself simply grabbing the dibbuin in both paws and holding him up as high as he could while he himself sank down, down, down, the world growing darker and darker and darker...

* * *

Skipper Rorac firmly placed his lips against Miru's mouth and breathed in deeply, making the pine marten's narrow chest swell out. The otter then sat up and set both of his paws on that chest and pressed as hard as he could, silently willing the heart inside to keep on beating. Over and over again he breathed air into Miru, and pumped water out of him, while anxious Redwallers looked on. One of the sisters held the trembling mouse dibbun in a towel. The abbot and Sister Grace held each other's paws. Soilburr nervously tapped his digging claws. Rocc flicked his bushy tail.

"Skip?" Marok asked after awhile. "Is he...?"

But Skipper ignored the inquiry. His full attention was on getting Miru to start breathing again. _Air in, water out. Air in, water out. Breathe, come on, little mate, breathe, BREATHE! Air in, water out, air in, water out, air in, water out..._

...

...And then-

-a cough, a spray of water, and a huge intake of air from the pine marten.

The Redwallers sagged and cheered (some even cried) with relief as Miru sat up, coughing and gasping for air. Breathing more heavily than he ever had in his entire life, the sopping wet pine marten looked about himself, widening his eyes at the sight of the cheering abbeybeasts... and then found himself gazing into the red-rimmed eyes of Skipper Rorac.

For a moment, it seemed as though both animals tried to think of something to say.

Then the big otter wrapped his arms around Miru's small frame, who returned the hug as the other abbeydwellers swarmed around them, patting their backs and saying how brave and resourceful they both were.

But none of that mattered to Miru, or to Skipper.

All that mattered was that they were still together. Friends for life.


	15. This is Home

**Chapter 15**

It was certainly a glorious moment.

Skipper Rorac, the hero of the abbey, the darling of everybeast's heart, stood before the gathered beasts, ranging from his own crew to the Redwallers, from various woodlanders to the odd traveler. All were cheering and chanting the otter's name, clapping and stamping their feet. Hedgehogs wrattled their spines, moles tugged their snouts, otters whacked their tails on the floor.

A great feast was laid out in his honor. Long tables draped in snow-white linen sinking under the weight of great platters, pots, pans, bowls, casks and goblets, all filled with trifles, flans, crumbles, tarts, turnovers, soups, stews, sauces, jams, pies, cakes, scones, puddings, candied fruits, honeyed sweets, huge chunks of cheese, nuts, salads, wine, crush, beer, cordial, cider, ale, burdock, hotroot and watershrimp soup, and, the crowning touch, _grayling ala Redwall_.

The great red pillars of the abbey were strewn with a multitude of colored lanterns, flags, and wreaths of flowers: daisies, marigolds, harebells, honeydews, columbine, primroses and lilies. The walls were swathed with great curtains and magnificent tapestries, all bearing the likeness of Rorac and his heroic deeds.

Beautiful ottermaids, fluttering their long eyelashes, came gracefully forward, bearing many gifts to their chieftain: cups, belts, combs, tailrings, earrings, daggers, scarves, bracelets, tunics, amulets, and a great big swirling cloak that they placed around his broad shoulders.

Clad in nearly all the gifts he had received and feeling somewhat overwhelmed by all the praise and glory, the otter suddenly looked forward and saw a smiling Miru walking towards him, holding in his small paws a golden crown, studded with rubies, emeralds, pearls and sapphires. Rorac knelt so that the pine marten could place it on the otter's head.

Standing back up, decked out in finery and a gold crown to boot, the Skipper of otters felt taller and handsomer than he ever had been. And mightier; far mightier. He looked out over the jubilant crowd and spread his paws to show his thanks and appreciation. Everybeast stared back at him with such love, devotion, respect, and honor...

"Booooooooooooooo!"

Suddenly all the clapping and cheering stopped.

Skipper blinked, searching out the owner of the voice. And when he did, his blood turned ice-cold.

Rasouk.

The fox stepped through the crowd until he was facing the otter, his face twisted up in disgust as he looked Rorac up and down like a hill of compost.

"Why do you all throw your goods upon this creature?" he said loudly. "Why do you all heap such praise and devotion upon him? Why do you? Have you all no eyes to see?"

Rasouk then addressed Rorac, his voice filled with contempt. "Think you're a hero? Hah! You're no hero! Think you're a champion? Huh, some champion. This otter before you," he said, turning back to the crowd, "is no such thing! Oh, don't try and pretend you don't see it! Hah, I'll bet some of you even already know it! You just don't want to believe that's true, so you pretend like nothing is wrong! Well I won't! I won't stand by while this plank-tailed baffoon makes fools of us all! This so-called warrior you see before us, this... this _thing_ that stands - that _dare_ stands within these sacred halls, that eats the food off your tables and sleeps under the covers of your own beds, that you all _praise_ and _honor_ and _love_... is nothing more... than a _thief."_

That word was spoken with such venom that Skipper found himself stepping back. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that every single creatures' gaze was fixated on Rasouk. None of them seemed like they could, or even wanted, to look away. Not one beast stepped forward to object to the fox's accusations, or to do anything to help Skip.

Skipper couldn't even help himself. He could only stand there like a stuffed dummy, unable to argue his innocence or order his otters to take Rasouk outside.

As for Rasouk, the fox began to step towards the otter, still growling and sneering. With each step he seemed to grow a little taller so that he became the same height as Skipper.

"A _thief_, I tell you! A no-good, dirty, rotten, lousy, stinking _thief!_ And what's more, he's a _coward!_ A coward, I tell you! A fat-bellied, lily-livered, milk-coddled, blubber-muzzled, belly-crawlin', tail-cringin', nail-bitin', yellow-bellied, worm-for-a-spine COWARD!"

Now the fox was right in Skipper's face. His golden eyes were enormous with rage, and they seemed to fill up the otter's world. Skipper wanted to run away. He wanted to shout for his crew to take Rasouk away. He wanted to push the fox away. He wanted to run, yell, move, _anything_- and yet he could not.

"And what's more," Rasouk went on, his fangs bared. "He doesn't know his PLACE!" And with that, the fox shot his claws out and seized the amulet from around his neck and yanked it clean off. "This is MY amulet! And this is MY pawring!" Rasouk roughly pulled the pawring in question off, causing Rorac to give a whine of pain-

"And this is MY cloak!"

Upon hearing a second voice, the otter found himself finally able to turn... only to find himself looking at a second Rasouk. Who grabbed a pawful of Rorac's cloak and pulled with all his might. The otter tried to pull back on his precious cloak, only the garment ripped, and then suddenly a _third_ Rasouk appeared.

"And this is MY tunic!" the fox roared, clawing at Skipper's tunic.

Frightened and bewildered, the otter turned to beseech his friends for help-

-only they weren't there anymore. They were all replaced by an army of foxes, all resembling Rasouk. The horde then either turned on Skipper or ran wild within the abbey, ripping down banners and tapestries, snatching up vases and taking down paintings, gobbling down the food and guzzling down the drinks, all of them claiming ownership to the things they laid hold of.

Rorac wanted to stop them. He wanted to spring into action and defend his abbey, but he was still surrounded by several more Rasouks who tore at his clothes, yanked the rings off his tail and arms, and bereaved him of his crown, all the while not being careful with their suddenly sharp-as-a-razor claws. They sank those claws deep into the otter's flesh, ripping fur off of his body and nearly gouging his eyes out. Suddenly he felt a set of paws grip his rudder, heard a voice yell, "This is MY tail!"and the whole tail was yanked clean off.

Opening his mouth to scream, and yet unable to utter a single sound, the otter tried to fight off his attackers, but he only felt himself growing weaker by the second, until finally...

...they were all gone. Or at least they were _leaving,_ all laden with the various things they had taken either from the now-bare and desolate abbey, or from the now-bare and desolate Skipper.

Scratched and bleeding, with great big patches of his pelt and his entire tail gone, Rorac watched them all go, until finally one remained, holding the abbey doors open. As the fox turned to look back, Skipper, his mouth agape, spread his paws slightly to show his despair and hurt.

But Rasouk smiled, and after a moment, said, "We'll be back for more tomorrow."

And with that, the fox shut the doors-

* * *

And Skipper opened his eyes.

The otter raised his head, breathing hard and quick. His brow was sweating, his paws were shaking, his heart beating as if it were trying to break out through his chest.

It was nighttime. He was still in bed... untouched... unharmed... and the abbey was still in one piece.

And there was no sign of Rasouk.

Taking as deep a breath as he could, the otter suddenly found himself realizing that he was back in the infirmary. And looking down, he saw that he was still in the same bed as Miru, who looked to be sleeping as cozily as a baby. A good sign, considering his ordeal earlier that day.

Tears began to sneak their way past his eyes, but Rorac squeezed them away. _Oh, Miru..._ If anything ever happened to him... it didn't bear thinking about.

Skipper still blamed himself for what had happened. He never should have left the marten's side. The very sight of seeing that frail little body sinking deeper and deeper into the water... But oh, thank goodness and bless the skies, Miru was still with them. With an oncoming cold, but still with them. And this time, Skipper would never leave the marten alone. He would be at his side always, even...

The otter blinked, taking in a small breath of air through his nose.

Rasouk. He would have to leave Miru's side whenever he would go deliver to Rasouk. Rorac hated the idea, he always hated it. But he knew he had no choice. It was either give in to the fox's demands, or... the otter gulped, and felt tears once again form in the corners of his eyes.

Blinking them away, Rorac snuggled a bit closer to Miru, carefully wrapping his arms around the marten's thin body. Too thin, even now after all those Redwall meals. Never mind, he'd just have to make certain that Miru ate a little more in the future, that's all. And he would keep him safe at all times. He might even barricade the door to Miru's room whenever he, Skipper, had to leave for Rasouk's. Yes, he could do that, just in case. If it would keep anything bad away from his little mate...

Miru mumbled in his sleep and, turning over so that he was facing the otter, nuzzled his head into Rorac's chest. Once again feeling a lump in his throat, the otter gulped and got watery-eyed, but this time he let the tears come.

He would always make certain that his friend was safe. Always. It would certainly make up for what he had done with...

The otter pushed that thought away and contented himself to just simply lie there, listening to the soft breathing of his little mate.

* * *

The sound of the door opening brought Miru awake. Blinking in the sunshine that came filtering through an open window, the pine marten barely made out Sister Grace walking towards him with a tray of food.

The kindly hogwife sighed and smiled. "I don't know whether to be happy or sad that you're back in here, Miru. I did miss being able to bring you your meals in bed, though I also liked the fact that you were back in good health. Oh, good morning, Skipper."

Miru turned and realized that the otter was actually lying alongside of him. Skipper rubbed sleep from his eyes as he eased out from under the covers.

"You were shuddering an awful lot last night, little mate," the big otter said somberly, stretching his arms. "I figured you'd need just a little extra warmth after being in all that cold water."

The memory of nearly drowning came flooding back into the young marten's head. He remembered the rising of his heart, the burning in his nose, and the choking of his throat. He had once heard somebeast say that drowning was painless, but not from where he was standing. He then sneezed into his sleeve, his eyes becoming fuzzy. And it didn't seem so long ago that he had just gotten over his previous cold.

"That was a very brave thing you did, dear," Sister Grace said as she settled the tray on Miru's lap.

"Not very smart, though," the pine marten said softly, sniffling a bit before having a small coughing fit. "If I had learned to swim-"

"You shouldn't be blamin' yourself, mate," Skipper interrupted, placing a heavy paw on Miru's bony shoulder. "Nobeast could've predicted that happenin', but no harm came from it. And now we're going to be a little more cautious in the future. We're going to keep a more watchful eye on the young uns from now on. And you don't have to go near that lake ever again."

"But I want to."

This was so unexpected that both otter and hedgehog stopped and stared at the young pine marten.

But Miru, his gaze steady despite his rheumy eyes, went on. "I want to learn how to swim. I don't ever want to know what its like to be a drowning beast. I can't ever let that happen again. I can't ever let anybeast worry about me anymore," he added, looking pointedly at Skipper. "I can't be a burden anymore."

"Oh, mate..." The big otter sat back down on the edge of the marten's bed, taking one small thin paw into his own large rough one. "You're not a burden. Not in the least bit! Takin' care of you has been... why, its been like takin' care of any of my own otters. Tis no burden, its..."

"Something that we all do," put in Sister Grace, taking Miru's other paw, "because we love one another. Just like how you saved that dibbun yesterday. We all help and take care of each other because that's what loving creatures do."

Just then the infirmary door opened again. Skipper, Grace, and Miru all turned to see none other than the little mouseling that had been saved the day before. Behind him stood one of the Sisters, who watched smilingly as the dibbun trundled over to the bed and, with some help from Skipper, climbed up next to Miru's side.

The mouse then wrapped his tiny arms around the marten's neck in a hug, saying, "T'ank you."

A smiled bloomed on Miru's face, and his eyes filled with tears. It was like watching rain give nourishment to a bed of flowers.

_This is my home,_ the marten realized. _I'm home..._


	16. An Invite

**Chapter 16**

"Come on out just a little farther, Miru."

"Isn't this far enough?"

"Not by a long shot! Its barely up to your knees. You can't learn to swim when the waters' hardly up to your knees!"

"Sorry. Guess I'm just not as keen as I was to go back to the place where I almost died."

"Hey, you were the one who insisted on the swimming lessons, little mate! Now come on, a little farther, a little farther..."

Miru gritted his teeth and shivered as the freezing cold water climbed its way up his body. It had been little more than a week since the incident, and he did not relish the idea of catching another cold. He also did not relish how there were so many creatures about right now. Sister Grace stood anxiously at the pond's edge with dry towels in her paws, while a group of dibbuns splashed around Miru, all of them shouting up encouragement at their newest hero.

"C'mon, mista Miroo!" said the little mouse. "I c'n swim! I learned while you was sick! Watchamee!"

"I c'n blow bubbles, watch!" squeaked a tiny squirrelmaid. She dunked her head under the water. "Ahbububububububububub!"

A molebabe floated nearby, grinning. "Hurr, watchen Oi floaten, zurr marthen! Hurrhurrhurr!"

Marok, Rocc, and Soilburr were also present, giving out encouragement as well. Or at least Marok was.

"Come on, Miru, it'll be okay," the mouse said. "You'll get used to the cold. Soon the water will seem nice and warm, and you won't want to come out!"

"_I_ certainly have never felt that way!" Rocc said, wrinkling his nose at Marok. The squirrel stood some distance behind the group in the water. "I learned how to swim, but that was just so I could have an excuse _not_ to go swimming. I can't stand being in the water, its makes my tail look like boiled cabbage!"

"Hurrhurrhurr," chuckled Soilburr. The mole was also at the rear of the group, though he was further in than Rocc. "Oi never bee a-carin' to ee in urr water neither, but Oi surely do love to be a-playin' in it! Burr arr!"

"Don't crowd me, don't crowd me!" Miru said, feeling panic starting to take hold.

"Alright, everybeast," said Skipper. "Let's give Miru his space, now. You little ones, get back towards the shallows! Marok, Soilburr, Rocc, keep an eye on 'em, eh?"

"Sure thing, Skip!"

As soon as they were alone, Skipper smiled down at Miru. "Alright, mate. Let's get you started!"

Miru shuddered in response. The otter chuckled. "Haharr, no need to fear, mate. It'll all be over soon. Now, first thing we're gonna learn is the Dead Beast Float!"

"The _what?"_

"Tis only the name of it, mate. You aren't actually _dead_-"

"Then why do they call it the 'Dead Beast Float'?" Miru could feel that panic again.

"I dunno, they just do. Anyway, this is how you do it: you take a deep breath and spread yourself back onto the water like how you would on a bed."

"How can I do that? I'll sink!"

"You won't. Trust me, I've seen it plenty of times. All you have to do is take a deep breath, and you'll float. Its the simplest thing to learn. Come on, try it."

"I can't. I'll sink. I know I will!"

"Oh, hell's _teeth_, did you want me to teach you how to swim or didn't you? Come on, mate! I'm right here, I pulled you out of the water when you were drowning, what makes you think I won't do it again?"

Miru took a deep breath and let it out. "Okay," he said, and took a second deep breath.

The marten then spread himself backwards... and promptly sunk to the bottom of the pond.

Skipper blinked. He had never seen that happen before. For a moment he waited, just in case Miru came floating back up again. And then he hurriedly reached down and pulled the marten up.

Coughing, sputtering, and shaking water from his eyes, Miru looked up at Rorac and said, "I'll just _float,_ huh?"

The otter scratched his head. "I ain't never seen that before! You're sure you took a deep breath? A good, long deep breath?"

"Of course I did!" The marten coughed again.

"Ah, look, matey," Rorac said, feeling suddenly guilty. "Maybe we should forget about-"

"No," Miru interrupted. "I said I wanted swimming lessons, and I'm going to... to... ah-_choo!"_

* * *

After making certain Miru was safe and warm (and sleeping) in the infirmary, Skipper Rorac tiptoed down the dark halls of the slumbering abbey to the deserted kitchens. There he filled up a haversack with various leftovers, much like how he had been doing for the past several seasons. Although the night spring air was warm and flowery, the otter still felt a cold sweat as he stepped out onto the moonlit grounds and scampered towards the southern wallgate. He always did.

Soon Skipper was following the old trail towards Rasouk's burrow, a place he loathed to go every time. Sticking to the shadows and always straining his ears, eyes and nose for anybeast that might be watching, the otter made it to the great big oak without incident.

Crouching down next to the entrance to the fox's home, Skipper called out softly, "Rasouk?"

There was no answer.

This puzzled the otter. Usually whenever he came to the burrow and made himself known, Rasouk would always either grunt, "Get in," or reach out and pull Skipper in. It wasn't like the fox to remain silent. Perhaps he wasn't at home? Maybe he had forgotten he had told Rorac to come on this night? Or maybe he was asleep?

Well, whatever the reason, Skipper knew he would have to leave the food anyway, and retrieve the haversack he left there last time. Taking one last glance around, the otter slipped inside the burrow's entrance and made his way down. As he went, Skipper saw that there was no distant light at the end. Either the fox's lantern was out, or it wasn't even in the burrow at all. He suddenly wondered if maybe Rasouk had grown tired of Mossflower and decided to leave. That brought a small smile to the otter's face, though he figured it wasn't true in the least. But still, it was a nice thought.

Finally, Skipper reached the end of the tunnel and entered the dark, room-sized burrow-

-and _WHUMP!_ felt something slam into his midriff, knocking the wind out of him. Rorac's tongue shot out and his eyes nearly popped out of his head as he gasped for air-

-only for something large to jump up onto his back, pulling an old sack over his head. An arm locked itself around his neck while a paw gripped Skipper's left wrist and twisted it behind his back.

Winded and unable to fully breathe or take on a steady footing, the otter stumbled forward, tripping over what felt like a pile of blankets. He just managed to fall sideways, slamming into one of the walls. Grunting in pain and struggling to breathe, Skipper then laid down on the ground and waited, like always, for Rasouk to "recognize" him.

"Who dares enter my home so brazenly?" the fox's voice hissed.

The otter tried to answer, but was only able to provide a jumble of gutteral groanings.

"What's that? I don't speak that language," Rasouk's teasing voice said.

"Rass-ock, is mee, Rorl-ack."

"Ahh, so its you, Skipper. So sorry." And with that, the fox got up off of his captive, pulling the bag off of the otter's head.

Rubbing the shoulder that hit the wall with one paw and rubbing his stinging belly with the other, Skipper sat up and glared at Rasouk, who, after placing a wooden stave against a wall, was striking some tinder and flint put a light in the lantern.

After taking a few sasifactory deep breaths, the otter hissed, "Why do you _always_ have to _do_ something like that?"

"Like what?" the fox innocently asked. "I'm intitled to make certain that no stranger comes into my home. And if I don't instantly recognize your ottery smell, well, you might want to consider how often you bathe." Without waiting for a reply, he then snatched away the new haversack and opened it up gleefully. "Ahh! Cheese! With hazelnuts, too! Mmmmmch! Mmrrff, mm! Ooh, and tater pie! Rrmmmch! Mmch. Mmm, oh that's good. Ooh, an' a slice of Abbot Cake, too! Oh hoho!"

Turning his face away in disgust, Skipper pulled a polished fishbone tailring off of his rudder. "Here," he said, tossing it to Rasouk, who deftly caught it.

"Ooh, shiny! Very pretty, thankee. You're always so good to me, Skipper," the fox said with a broad grin.

Snorting, the otter made to exit the burrow.

"Now where are you going?" Rasouk said. "Stay here an' chat with me for awhile? I get so lonely bein' out here all by myself."

Rorac turned scornful eyes upon the fox. "Well then, why don't you go out and find some of your own kind to play with, eh? Don't tell me all you ever do is sit around in this hole, waiting for me to come by?"

"Oh, sometimes I do go out and try to meet another fox and the like. But, the trouble is, usually whenever one meets a vermin, said vermin wants only to rob you, or they belong to a big group that wants to rob you, or they'll want you to join their fources and go with them on all their pointless raids. And none of those things hold any value to me."

Skipper was curious in spite of himself. "I can understand the not wanting to get robbed part, but what about joining up with a crew? I mean, I wouldn't want to encourage anybeast to take up with a gang of thieves... not even _you-"_ (Rasouk gave a laugh.) "-but why not find yourself a group to go journeying with?"

"Go journeying with? Why Skipper, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to get rid of me!"

The big otter didn't answer.

"Haha, but I will answer your question. I have never had much use for being in a crew, or a horde, or a group, or gang or anything of the like. I _have_ done it before, mind, and I have found throughout all of those experiences that I am _much_ better off being on my own. Sticking to the shadows and keeping out of sight is what I'm good at, and its what I like to do, so I'll stick that way till the end of my days. But didn't I tell you all about this before? I can't remember. Well, no matter. Mmmch! Oh, how I love Abbot Cake!"

Skipper considered the fox before him. No family, no friends, not even a crew for company... it seemed such an empty life. "Well," the big otter said, standing up, "if that's the life you have chosen, then I guess that's all there is to it. Good night."

"Wait a moment, I have something I'd like to say."

The otter gave a small groan, but turned back to face Rasouk.

"I have been thinking," the fox said, fiddling with the half-eaten piece of Abbot Cake in his claws. "All this food you've brought me... they're all just... _leftovers,_ aren't they?"

"Yes," Skipper answered warily.

Rasouk sighed. "I would so love to eat freshly made food from the abbey, and not have to live on what its thrown away. I can't remember the last time I ate at a Redwall table."

Skipper was startled by this piece of news. "Y... wait, you... were once at the abbey?"

"Aye, once," Rasouk nodded, a wistful smile playing on his muzzle. "You and your crew weren't there, so of course you wouldn't remember. But oh, what a glorious time it was! Not just the food, but also the drinks, oh, the _drinks!_ And the beds, those soft, warm, clean, comfortable beds, with those fluffy pillows like clouds, and those lovely blankets... haven't slept on a bed like that in ages. I would have loved to live there, all for the rest of my life... except they wanted me to help out with _chores._ Huh, chores, like I was some galley-slave or something! I had enough of following orders and cleaning up after other beasts, so I decided they could wash their own sticky pots and sweep their own dusty stairs for all I care! Ahh, but I left not without regret. I still have dreams where I'm in one of those heavenly beds and drinking down October Ale..."

Rorac shifted uncomfortably. Rasouk had never talked like this before, though Skipper was beginning to suspect just why he was. Yet he remained quiet, knowing that if he did voice any objection about the fox coming back into Redwall...

"Say, when was the last time a feast was held at Redwall, anyway? I understand they have one every season. They call it a 'Nameday' celebration, don't they?"

"...Yes."

"I suppose they've already had a feast for the spring, haven't they? Ah, tis a shame, I would have liked to have gone. Well, no matter, there's always the summer feast to look forward to, and I think that might even be mor-"

"No."

Rasouk looked at the otter. He gave a pleasant smile. "What?"

Skipper stared at the fox with eyes like burning steel. "You are not coming to the feast. You are not coming to _any_ feast. You are not coming into Redwall Abbey _ever_, whether you have lived there before or not."

"Oh?" Still smiling, Rasouk got to his feet, tossing the cake back into the haversack. "And what makes you so certain about that?"

Rorac took a step forward, growling. "I mean it, fox. I've put up with a lot from you, more than what's necessa-"

"_You_ put up with _me?"_ laughed Rasouk, his smile turning into a grin. "I'm sorry, isn't the reason we are in this little 'arrangement' is because of something that _you_ did?"

Skipper snapped. He lunged forward, grabbing the fox by the shoulders and pinning the shorter animal up against the wall. _"Don't you ever-! _You are _not_ coming into the abbey, not for a feast, not for anything! Our arrangement was for me to bring you food and blankets and other things from there-"

"But you cannot bring me a bed, can you?" Rasouk said, still managing to smile. "Nor can you bring me a full keg of beer. And what's more, I am growing weary of being by myself-"

"Then go and find yourself a horde and begone!" the otter almost shouted.

"But I already told you, I don't _want_ to join a horde or anything. No, I desire to spend one night amongst some friendly beasts who will allow me to part company with them when I am done. And the abbeybeasts are just the kind-"

_"No,"_ Skipper growled. "You are _not_ coming into the abbe-_guh!"_

Rasouk's paws managed to reach up and lock themselves around the otter's neck, squeezing as hard as they could. The fox then pushed himself against Rorac, forcing the otter up against the opposite wall. Taken aback by the aggression Rasouk had shown, Skipper at first couldn't find it in himself to fight back.

"I _am_ coming into the abbey, whether you like it or not," the fox snarled, his teeth flashing. His golden eyes were so close they reminded Rorac of his horrific dream. "Why shouldn't I? Because I am 'tainted', Skipper of otters? Because I am 'evil'? Oh no, Skipper. _You_ are the one who is tainted. _You_ are the one who is evil. _You_ are the one who shouldn't be living up in that abbey, able to come and go as you please, able to eat their food and sleep in their beds-"

The otter gurgled painfully, uncomfortably reminded again of the nightmare he had. He tried to pry Rasouk's paws off of his neck, but the fox gave him a short, violent shake.

"Ah, yes, you see it too, don't you? You think the exact same thing, don't you? And you're worried that they'll all find out, aren't you? Well you shouldn't worry, Skipper," Rasouk said, his voice softening, his grip on Rorac's neck relaxing. "Nobeast knows your secret except for me, and I will not tell them. No, no, no, I will never tell them... so long as you do as _I_ say, and let me come to the feast. That's all that I ask for, Skip. To be at a Redwall feast again. That is all I wish for."

After a moment, Skipper finally managed to force Rasouks' paws away from his throat. The fox stepped away while the otter massaged his sore neck. Rasouk adopted his old attitude, smiling easily as if he had not just tried to strangle Rorac.

"There. So if that is what you are worried about, then you have no reason. You see, I have every intention on keeping up my end of the bargain. And so should you. And besides, none of things I have asked for are unreasonable, are they? The food and blankets are given away all the time at the abbey, we have long ago agreed on that. And my coming back to visit for a feast, there is nothing wrong with that. Nothing about it all that will give anybeast reason to suspect. Oh come now, Skipper. You would not deny a poor wandering fox a chance to sit at a Redwall feast, would you?"

The otter looked up at the fox. "'Poor wandering fox'?"

Rasouk nodded. "As far as the abbeybeasts know, you and I have never met. And they knew me as a wanderer before, so why should they not know me as that now? In some ways, I still am a wanderer. I just haven't wandered for the past few seasons."

Skipper rolled his eyes and continued to rub his neck.

"But no matter. Although you will have to put in a good word for me when I try to enter the abbey. They might not let me in."

This caught Rorac's attention. "Oh? Why not?"

"Hahaa, how quickly you picked up on that! Heh heh, well, the last time I was at the abbey, I told you I wasn't so keen on doing any of the chores, so I left in... a bit of a huff, you might say. The Redwallers might remember my sour attitude, and not take kindly to the idea of letting me back in. But you, my dear otter, will come in and say that, as you do not know me, you feel cannot deny any creature a chance to sit at the abbey's table. And _I_ will say that I have become humbled during these past few seasons, and will gladly help out with the dishes and all the other cleaning up, if they would just allow a poor hungry fox a second chance."

Skipper breathed deeply and blew out his nose, one paw resting on his throat.

"So how about it?" Rasouk said. "Do we have an agreement?"

The otter stared for a moment longer before saying, "You promise you won't hurt anybeast?"

"Heavens," the fox laughed, raising his paws. "Now _why_ would I want to do _that?"_

"Promise me anyway."

"Alright, alright, I promise. I promise that I won't hurt any of your precious abbeybeasts, or any other beast for that matter. I will not be rude or impolite to anybeast of any kind. And I _do_ promise that I will help out with the cleaning up, I have every intention of doing so."

Skipper eyed Rasouk suspiciously. "Why? Why would you want to, when you didn't want to help out with the chores before? Why is that?"

"Because you are going to help me play a game on the Redwallers once I get there."

"Oh no-"

"Trust me, Skip, it'll be a most amusing game. Didn't I just say that I would not harm anybeast? You have nothing to fear. _And_ I promise you _will_ enjoy the game I have in mind. Or at least, you _would_ enjoy it - if you had a sense of humor."

The otter gave a scowling sigh, but deciding he didn't want to argue anymore. "Well, what is it, then?" he asked. "What is this 'game' that you have planned?"

"Its meant to be a surprise," the fox replied with a crafty grin. "But again, I promise you that it'll be great fun, and nobeast will get hurt. Now be off with you, my dear otter, and do please keep me informed about when the feast is going to take place. And try not to 'forget' to tell me, would you, please? Thank you."

Hardly liking anything that was happening right now, but hardly willing to stay in that burrow any longer, Skipper hurried out, fervently hoping that Rasouk's "game" would prove to be harmless enough... and knowing that he most likely wouldn't like it at all.

* * *

Little did he know, but as Skipper left the tunnel from under the oak tree, a pair of watchful eyes gleamed in the moonlight...


	17. A Talk

**Chapter 17**

"My, I didn't think I'd ever meet a beast who got sick nearly as often as you," Marok said to Miru, who, after a day or two, had been just released from the infirmary for the third time since he had arrived at the abbey.

"Aye, I was always getting a lot of colds in the past," the pine marten said, sitting down on a bench next to the mouse. It was breakfast-time, and the scent of fresh-baked rolls and melting meadowcream was thick in the air of Cavern Hole. "Mmm, oh, that smells so good. Pass me some of those rolls, please, and the meadowcream. And maybe some of that jam, too."

"Well!" said Skipper delightedly, who was sitting on the opposite side of Miru. "This is a first. The marten who's never hungry suddenly has an appetite!"

"I suppose after living off of all those tonics of Sister Graces'," the pine marten said, liberally spreading blackberry jam and meadowcream over his roll, "one tends to get cravings for other things."

The others laughed, and helped themselves to some more breakfast: fresh fruit from the orchard, porridge sprinkled with apple slices and dried cherries, greensap milk, and fluffy pancakes.

"Aye, Sister Grace is a darlin', but those tonics of hers', urrggh!"

"Hurr, them be tastin' awful-loike, they do! Burr arr!"

"I remember when I had to try one when I was ill. Tasted like charcoal ground up in mint leaves. Made my tail curl for weeks!"

"Haha, but your tail already curls, Rocc. That's what you squirrels do with your brushes anyhow!"

"Well, I suppose you're jealous that mice simply have to go around with your tails all skinny and hairless like worms, eh?"

"Now, now, young uns, let's not be cruel to one another."

"Ah, Skip, we were just funnin'. We always do!"

"Even so, let's wait awhile longer afore we start saying just what's wrong with everybeast, eh? At least after all the dishes are done."

Suddenly a hush fell over the diners as Father Abbot Fir stood up and spread his arms. Once he gained everybeasts' attention, the kindly old mouse smiled warmly at his Redwallers through his round spectacles, folding his paws into his wide habit sleeves.

"My children," the abbot said grandly. "Spring has almost ended, and summer is just around the corner. I know it is early yet to be thinking about this, but I have decided to make a proposal to you all that I hope you all find most favorable."

Aside from an exchange or two of glances, the abbeybeasts put their full attention on Abbot Fir.

"As you know," the old mouse went on, "whenever we have a feast, it takes place sometimes inside the abbey, either in Cavern Hole or in the Great Hall. Or, it takes place sometimes _out_side of the abbey, in the orchards. What I am thinking is this: when it comes time to hold the summer feast, we shall hold it in all _three_ of our usual places, all at once! Make it the biggest feast that our abbey has _ever_ seen!"

There was quite some chattering after this was said. Some looked quite excited at having such an enormous banquet, while others looked rather anxious at the thought of doing all that extra work. But no matter which way they felt, the most common look on everybeasts' face was surprise.

The abbot raised his paws again, and silence reigned. "I know you all must be wondering just why I would want such an endeavor to be made. Well, I have not merely one reason for wanting this to be done, but several.

"The first reason is that it will not only be a Nameday feast, but also my Golden Jubliee feast. Once this summer comes around, I shall have been abbot for fifty seasons!"

At this, the Redwallers clapped and cheered; Fir had been a wise and just ruler to them all, and they loved him. Even Miru, who barely knew the old mouse, was often touched at how kind the abbot was to him.

"The second reason, my good Redwallers, would be to give our newest member, Miru, a proper welcome to the abbey!"

Now this was unexpected, at least to Miru. Never before had a feast been thrown in _his_ honor, and he didn't see much reason for it. But apparently the Redwallers did, for they also clapped in agreement with their abbot. The mousebabe that Miru had rescued, whose name he found out was Trubb, stood up on the bench he sat at and jumped up and down, cheering. The marten felt himself blush under such acknowledgement and hunched his shoulders. He never expected anything like this to happen to him before.

Skipper, however, clapped him on the back, nearly sending the young marten face-down into his porridge. "Haharr! You deserve it, matey! Getting a feast thrown in your honor!"

"Ah, but that brings us to my third reason," said Abbot Fir over the din. "It would also be a feast in your honor as well, Skipper Rorac."

It was time for Skipper to look taken aback, and for Miru to clap _him_ on the back, though there was no way the marten could ever get the otter to fall forward. As the applause from the Redwallers died down, Abbot Fir continued on.

"Throughout all the times that I have known you, Skipper, you have shown not only unwavering bravery, but also whole-hearted kindness and charity, setting a wonderful example for all of us."

The abbeybeasts muttered their approval, smiling and nodding. Miru grinned up at Rorac, saying, "You deserve it, matey! Getting a feast thrown in your honor!"

But then the young marten noticed something odd about the otter... there was something... there _had_ been something... in his eyes. A flash of... of... _guilt?_

Miru was unable to think more on this, for the abbot went on speaking.

"And not only that, my children. But it would also be a perfect time to stop and gave thanks that we have endured no wars during our time. That we have never had to endure times of famine-" (here Skipper glanced at Miru, though the marten didn't seem affected.) "-or great sicknesses. Our abbey has gone through many trials like that in the past, and more besides. And yet, I am glad to say, any troubles that we ourselves have faced have been decent in comparison to those previous. We ought to celebrate that we have been shown such goodness."

Nearly every creature present nodded solemnly. They were all well-versed in the history of the abbey.

"That being said, my children, I wish for a great, big, wonderful feast to be held this summer! One unlike any that has ever taken place within these walls! One where we give thanks for being such blessed creatures, and that we send word out to every tribe and village in Mossflower and invite them in to share our blessings. What do you say, Redwallers? Shall we do it?"

A volley of cheers and applause met the old abbot, who folded his paws back into his wide habit sleeves. "Thank you, all. I am certainly glad that my proposal meets your approval. And," he added, with a twinkle in his eye, "I am glad that I made it so early in the season. It will certainly give us all time to prepare."

"Aye," said one of the otters. "We'll pick the flowers, and you, Father Abbot, can take care of movin' all the tables and benches and the like!"

Quite a bit of laughter followed this comment. The abbot chortled heartily, and said, "Very well, with that in mind, you, Riverjack, can be in charge of making all the flower wreaths! I expect every table to have one. Now let's get started, shall we? I'll need Skipper, Foremole, Friar Tumble, Sister Grace, and all of the other elders to come and help me with the finer details!"

Skipper got up from the table he and the others sat at. He patted Miru on the shoulder, smiling as he left, but the marten couldn't help but notice how... _forced_ that smile looked...

"Ah, now this'll be one feast that I'm glad happened in my lifetime!" said Marok, digging deeply into his porridge.

"Hurr, Oi be a-hopin' they'll be havin' ee gurt woildcream pudden!" said Soilburr wistfully, stirring his own porridge.

"Chances are they will," said Rocc, setting into his pancakes.

"Hurr, arr, ooh, an' that there be deeper'n'ever pie an' ee gurt Abbot Cake! Oi dearly loves Abbot Cake! Hurr, wot do ee wish will be at the feast, zurr marthen?" Soilburr asked Miru, who was still staring after Skipper.

"Er, what? Oh, I suppose anything will do. From what I understand, there's always something marvelous to eat a Redwall feast-"

"That's right," Marok said suddenly, looking up from his porridge. "You haven't been to a feast yet, have you? You were sick in bed when we had the spring feast."

"Hurr, Oi be a-hopin' for yore sake ee won't be a-gettin' sicker again, zurr!"

Miru managed to smile at the mole. "Thanks, Soilburr. And I'll hope that none of you get sick, either."

"Oh arr, ee be gurt tradegy iffen that happens! Burr arr!"

* * *

The next few weeks at Redwall Abbey were something of a whirlwind to the young marten. Before, whenever he was up and about, he noticed how the abbeybeasts went about their work in a calm, contented sort of way. They didn't seem to worry about much as they pulled weeds, cut grass, pruned bushes, swept floors, washed windows, did the dishes, cooked the meals, dusted the walls, repaired roofs, and attended to all the other things in the upkeep of the red sandstone building. Everything was done with relaxed ease and order.

Now, though...

"Gang way! Comin' through!"

The young marten barely had enough time to step out of the way as a band of hedgehogs carried a long oaken table out through the open abbey doors, followed by even more prikly hedgehogs carrying long benches and extra chairs.

And as if that weren't enough, coming _in_ through the doors was a group of moles with empty cauldrens, followed by a cluster of squirrels bringing in strings of colored lanterns.

It was impossible these days to exit the abbey building without running into somebeast bringing something in or out for the summer feast. Miru was beginning to wonder if it was all worth the trouble to begin with, though he never said that aloud.

The young marten peeked through the doors, watching as mice, moles, squirrels, hedgehogs and otters bustled about, hurrying to set up one table by the lake, only to move it to another place; scurrying to hang flags and lanterns from one tree to a second, only to take them down and string them from another. They all wanted everything to be just perfect for the feast, as it was meant to be a feast that would be spoken of in another fifty seasons.

Miru sighed in wonder. Never before had he ever seen the preperations for a celebration. Usually, back in his old life, he hid himself up in his room and waited for Kirin's return from war, and upon his big brother's return, the food would be all laid out, as if by magic. He never once gave a second thought to all the effort that was put into it. In fact, he'd never given a single thought to anything that the servants did. He had always been too wrapped up in his own worries to think of anybeast else.

As that thought occured to him, the young marten suddenly realized how spoilt and pampered he had been in those days. How self-absorbed and so... lazy. No wonder nobeast in the kingdom liked him. And looking back, Miru realized he didn't even like himself...

_Except you're not Dernwyn, anymore_, he reminded himself. _You're Miru. Miru is different. Miru is a farmer's son. And farmers' sons help out around the house._

Right. He had enough of sitting around feeling sorry for himself while everybeast else went on with their lives. He would get out there and help out the abbeybeasts with their feast...

...except where in the abbey _could_ he help out?

Certainly he couldn't help with the heavy lifting, he was still too weak for any of that. Helping to put up lanterns and flags were out of the question since he still was not too fond of heights. And there was no way he was going down into the kitchens: Friar Tumble was running himself and his helpers ragged, huffing and puffing as he raced from one oven to the next, from one mixing bowl to another, giving one order or another, all the while going over the larders and keeping track of all the new food that was coming in. Plus Miru had never cooked anything before, and he would much rather postpone any cooking lessons until _after_ the feast.

_I'll help put out the tableware,_ the marten thought to himself. Yes, that's what he could do, that type of job suited him perfectly. Except he couldn't do that until the day of the feast, and that was still some time away. Right now everybeast was just trying to figure out where everything should go.

"Just to save time," had been Skipper's words.

That was another thing Miru didn't quite like about this upcoming feast. It seemed Skipper was so preoccupied with overseeing the preperations that the young marten didn't get to spend the entire day with his otter-friend like he used to. It was mostly during mealtimes when they would finally get to spend time together, or just before bedtime. And sometimes even then the otter would tiredly slump down next to the pine marten and gobble down his food, or he'd fall on his bed and be out like a blown out candle. But for the rest of the time he'd be directing his otters and the other animals on where to place one table, where to set up the targets for the archery contest, where to hang up the streamers, and so on.

Miru wished he could do more to help Skipper out, other than watch him from afar. But for the moment, that was all he could really do. He'd be in the way otherwise.

So, Miru was not enjoying the prospect of the upcoming feast. And he seemed to be the only one in the entire abbey who wasn't.

* * *

It was just as he and Skipper were settling down for bed when the marten finally decided to voice his complaints. Though he figured he better do it as kindly as possible.

"I'll be glad when this feast is over," Miru said as he adjusted the neckline on his long nightshirt, keeping his back to the otter.

Skipper's voice sounded surprised. "Over? Why, its not even close to happening, mate, and you're already wishin' its over? I never expected to hear a youngbeast say that. Slap me rudder, I never expected _any_beast to ever say that. And it'd be your first Redwall feast, too! _And_ its being thrown in your honor, little mate! I thought you were looking forward to it?"

Remembering that indeed this feast was being thrown partly in his honor, the young marten felt an upsurge of guilt. How ungrateful he was behaving, again thinking only of himself and not others.

Quickly, Miru thought up a suitable reply. "Everybeast just seems so... tense, is all. I mean, so much coming and going. Doesn't seem like much fun."

The big otter chuckled, coming over to sit on the edge of the marten's truckle bed. "Trust me, mate. They're having fun, all of them. Even Friar Tumble, if you can believe that. Though I suppose that wouldn't make much sense to you, still being new to the abbey an' all. Listen, abbeybeasts... they _love_ to work this hard, get this involved in their work. They live such quiet, peaceful lives that they can't help but yearn for a bit of excitement. And once they get a chance, they like to give it their all. Put their best efforts into it. Its what they love to do, and believe me, they relish every moment of it."

Miru considered Skipper for a moment. He had never thought of it all like that. Nor did he ever think of anybeast actually _liking_ work.

"I guess," the young marten sighed, sitting down next to Skip. "I guess I'm just... we don't get to hang about with each other as much as we used to. I mean, I know you're busy with preparing things, I _know_ I'd only be in the way if I followed you around everywhere - don't try to tell me otherwise, I won't believe you. But I... I guess I just miss talking with you. That's all."

"Well, no time like the present, eh, matey?" Skipper grinned, sitting more comfortably on the truckle bed. "You want to talk? Let's talk! We'll talk about anything you like."

"Alright," Miru smiled, also settling himself more comfortably. Except he could think of nothing to say, aside from the upcoming feast, and he didn't want to talk about that. Especially after listening to nearly every Redwaller gush about all the activities that were to happen and all the visitors that were meant to come.

Skipper also seemed at a loss for words... until suddenly, he said something quite unexpected.

"So... I've been meaning to ask you, mate. I heard you talking in your sleep... matter of fact, I've heard you talk in your sleep several times... who was Kirin?"

The pine marten blinked. His heart seemed to burn and swell, his stomach suddenly twisting into knots.

"I mean, I can understand if you don't want to talk about him an' all, just... who was he? Was he your brother or something?"

There was a long, long silence.

Then:

"Yes. ...He was my brother."

Skipper swallowed. He didn't like to think he was causing his friend any grief by making him talk about his past life, but after hearing that mumbled name for so long, the otter couldn't help himself anymore. "So... what was he like?"

"Like... like you, in a lot of ways."

Skipper blinked. He hadn't expected that.

"I mean... he was real tall. Real strong. Very... very handsome. Everything that I'm not. He was strong... selfless... always smiling... always laughing... never caring if ever I said something mean to him because I was jealous..."

The otter swallowed again. He reached out and placed his paw over Mirus'.

"He was really a good brother. A very good brother. And even though I was very, very envious of him, I loved him. Very, very much."

A sad silence settled in the room. Skipper watched as Miru seemed to look beyond what was in the room, his blue eyes seeing things afar off. The otter then felt terrible for making his friend talk about something that was so obviously painful to him-

"Thank you, Skipper."

For a second time, Skipper blinked. Miru's eyes, though slightly wet and pinkish, were not sad after all. Rather, they were... relieved, and smiling.

"Thank you. I missed talking about him. It felt so good."

A third swallow later, the otter put his arms around the pine marten in a hug. Miru hugged back, and then lifted his head back to say, "And y'know something? I'm glad things are like this around here. That beasts can be... calm and collected at one time, but they can also be... be _passionate_, and full of life! I didn't realize before, but I think that's what makes this place so special. And what makes this feast so special, too. I'm suddenly looking forward to it!" he added with a genuine grin.

Skipper smiled. "I'm happy you feel that way now, mate," he said, patting Miru on the shoulder as he let the marten out of the hug.

"And you've been working so hard, Skip," the young marten said, sitting back on his pillow, "I hope the day of the feast goes by extra slow for you."

Skipper was certain it would, for that was the day when Rasouk was going to be within the abbey walls...


	18. The Day of the Feast

**Chapter 18**

It was the day of the feast.

And what a day, and what a feast, it was going to become. For it was not only for the official naming of the season, Summer of Many Blessings, but also the Golden Jubliee of Abbot Fir, as well as a celebration of brave new arrivals, and brave old friends.

The abbey was polished to perfection, a dusky red jewel set in a sea of emeralds under a sapphire sky. It was a truly magnificent sight, bathed in the golden sunlight as a soft breeze rustled the forest all around the red sandstone building.

Scattered all about the abbey, on the grounds and inside Great Hall and Cavern Hole, were long tables swathed in white linen cloths. Cups, dishes, and other assortments of eating utensils were put in place by Miru and some of the other Redwallers, while the rest put the finishing touches either on the food or in the areas where all the various activities were to be held.

"There are going to be many things to do today," Abbot Fir had said during the past few weeks. "There will be boat races, swim races, wall races, a concert, singing, dancing, poetry reading... And there will be squirrels and Skipper's otters performing acrobatic feats, hedgehogs spine-tusseling and drumming, wrestling matches, an orchestra, an archery contest, a three-pawed race, quoits, croquet, an acorn and stick high-batting contest, a greasy pole event, sack races, kite flying, there will be lots of things! And there are even going to be clowns, and a play put on!"

It all sounded very exciting, even though Miru had no intention of doing any of those things. He'd _watch_, but certainly he wouldn't participate, no matter how much anybeast asked him. But then again, with so many visitors from Mossflower coming in, it was most likely nobeast would ask him to begin with.

It was still very early in the morning, so no visitor had come yet. Some of Skipper's otters stood on the walltops, keeping watch for any arrivals for the feast. Skipper himself was inside Great Hall alongside Miru, cheerfully looking the whole place over: dozens and dozens of colored lanterns, mounds of fragrant flowers, flags and streamers... his cheerful look faded slightly. It looked an awful lot like how that one dream of his did...

Thankfully the otter was distracted by a sudden yawn from Miru. Skipper's grin returned, and he asked, "Tired, mate?"

"Yes," the marten mumbled. "I think I could've done with an extra hour of sleep or two." Earlier that very morning, Skipper had dragged his grumbling roommate out of bed and up the wall-steps to the east wall so they could witness the sun peaking over the horizon of Mossflower Woods.

"What, and miss that glorious sunrise earlier? There's nothing like watching the sun rise on the day of feast. Always seems to make the day that more special."

"I guess." Though Miru sounded unenthused, he actually was still in awe of the rosy golden splendor he had seen from the morning sky. He had never seen a sunrise before.

"Well, no matter. Why don't you come on out with me to the gates and help receive visitors? Marok, Rocc and Soilburr will be doing the same once they're up."

"Oh, so you let _them_ sleep in, but _me_, you drag out of my nice, warm, comfortable bed and force me up all those stairs in the cold morning air, is that it?"

"Pretty much. So how about receiving guests?"

"Sure, why not?"

* * *

And that was how the young pine marten found himself standing before the gates with Skipper, smiling as he listened to the otters roar out a lusty tune about their favorite food, hotroot soup.

_"Pile in pondshrimp,_

_leeks and onions,_

_wild garlic, and horseradish too!_

_Reed mace, starwort,_

_mare's tail, burr reed._

_More garlic, it's good for you!"_

Skipper sang out his solo:

_"There's somethin' amiss here, mates._

_Hotroot pepper, haharr,_

_that's the stuff._

_It'll melt the pattern off plates!"_

The other otters jumped back in:

_"Oh, nothin's 'otter_

_than an otter, _

_when he's suppin' hotroot soup!_

_His eyes pop out, _

_his ears perk up,_

_an' his tail curls in a loop!_

_So fill me bowl _

_up to the top, _

_an' add another scoop_

_of pipin' hot, _

_that hits the spot, _

_I'll finish yours if you cannot, _

_o' good old hotroot sooooooooooooup!"_

Suddenly there was a yell from one of the otters on the walltop, a knock at the gates, and the guests started to poor in.

* * *

First there came woodland families of squirrels, hedgehogs, moles, and mice. Then there came a group of spiky-furred shrews wearing brightly colored headbands, introduced by Skipper as the Guosim (Guerrilla Union of Sherws in Mossflower, Skipper explained). Next came a lone traveler or two, followed by more woodland families and a tribe of squirrels.

Sometime during the introduction of the Guosim, Marok, Rocc and Soilburr came hurrying across the lawns to help welcome in the visitors.

Skipper wagged a reproving paw at them. "Sleepin' on the job, eh? Well, no matter, mates. You're here, now. Say, help that mother out with her babe, eh, Marok? Soilburr, direct these beasts on where to go and where everything is. And Rocc, help that old shrewwife over the threshold, and be careful you approach her good an' calm, otherwise she'll think you're attacking her an' she'll beat the livin' daylights outta you!"

The day wore on, and within a seemingly short amount of time, nearly all of Mossflower had gathered into the abbey for a day of wonder and excitement.

Just as Abbot Fir said, there were many activities to do, and it seemed that everybeast was intent on accomplishing them all in an entire day. Songs were sung, poetry was read, and instruments were played. Excited dibbuns ran from place to place, watching as hedgehogs spine-tusseled, as squirrels held a relay race on the walltops, as moles wrestled, as Redwallers raced boats across the pond.

Miru was content to simply watch like the dibbuns, but Marok, Rocc and Soilburr were itching to leave their posts at the gate and join in the fun.

"Never fear, little mates!" laughed Skipper. "Soon we'll all start taking turns watching for any latecomers, and you young uns can be relieved of your duties. Say Miru, do you fancy spine-tusseling one of those hedgehogs?"

The pine marten laughed along with the others. "Don't even joke, Skip! Though I wouldn't mind seeing you wrestling one of those moles and getting your tail wrapped around your head!"

The big otter roared with laughter, and was about to make another comment when one of the otters from up above shouted down, "Hey, Skip! There's a fox coming up the road!"

Skipper's face immediately became serious. "What kind of fox?"

"Just a regular fox, Skip. Doesn't look like the corsair type. Just has a knapsack and a staff with him."

Miru noticed that the otter chieftain's face looked oddly grim, as though he were told an entire army was marching on the abbey. "Could be just a traveler, then," he said. "But... let's not take any chances. Just in case. Say Rocc, would you go and fetch the abbot, please?"

Within moments Abbot Fir was standing by Skipper's side, and there was a knocking on the abbey gates. Skipper, still looking grim, opened the door in the gates partway. Miru could barely see the fox's face over the otter's shoulder.

The fox smiled pleasantly at Skipper, saying, "Ah, good morning, sir. The names' Rasouk, how do you do?" Without waiting for a reply, the fox, Rasouk, went on. "I'm just a traveling fox, as you can see. Weary of being on my paws all day and sleeping on roots all night. Just thought I'd stop by an' ask for a meal and maybe a bed, please?"

The abbot stood on tip-paw to look over Skipper's shoulder. "Did you say your name was Rasouk? I believe I'm familar with that name."

The fox grinned at the old mouse. "And right you are, Father Abbot. I used to live here for awhile a few seasons back."

"Ah, yes," Abbot Fir replied, suddenly sounding stiff. "I remember you now. I believe when you last left, you said that you weren't a 'galleyslave', and that we could wash our own dishes and sweep our own stairs for all you cared?"

"Ah, indeed I did, Father Abbot. But you see before you a changed fox!" Rasouk spread his paws imploringly. "I have become humbled, Father, during my absence. I have spent many a night, wishing I could take back my unkind words - my _ungrateful_ words, I should say. After the life I've lived these past few seasons, I'd gladly help wash the dishes and clean up after dinner. Why, I'd even sweep the floors with my own brush if I had to!"

Miru was surprised by this unexpected turn of events. There had been a visitor at Redwall who hadn't been grateful for the abbey's kindness? And who actually preferred to leave the safety of its walls? Then again, the fox _was_ back, and begging for forgiveness.

The abbot, however, did not look so forgiving. "I do not mean to sound... accusing, when I say this, Rasouk, but I do find it most extraoridinary that you should choose to come back to the abbey just now, on the very day we are throwing a feast."

"I must admit, I did hear word of your feast," Rasouk nodded. "But it was because of your feast that I realized all that I was missing out on! All because of my foolish pride, and I may as well admit, my _laziness,_ I wasn't able to partake in any of your wonderful feasts or sleep in any of your beds. And so I came to myself, and decided that I must beg for your forgiveness, and see that I have finally turned over a new leaf!"

The four youngbeasts, along with the otters, looked between the fox, the abbot and Skipper. Rasouk continued to smile earnetly while Abbot Fir now looked more uncertain than anything else, though Skipper had a blank expression his face. Except Miru noticed that his eyes seemed to... burn?

Before he could get a better look, however, the otter chieftain stepped forward and said, "Father Abbot... I know it is your decision whether or not this fox comes within your gates or not, but... as my crew and I were not present during his stay here... I feel I cannot deny him a meal."

There was something strange in the way Skipper spoke, Miru thought, but the abbot was already speaking.

"Well then, Skipper. I suppose I can trust your judgment. And after all, if this fox says he has come back with a changed mind, then who are we to say that he is lying? Very well, come in, my son, come in," he added smilingly to Rasouk, who stepped over the threshold, grinning from ear to ear.

"Ahh, thankee, Father Abbot!" the fox said jauntily. "You're a kind creature, you all are!" he added to everybeast else present. "I promise, Abbot, that I will help out with the dishes an' sweep the floors and do any other chore you ask me to do while I am here!"

"Thank you, Rasouk," the abbot said, folding his paws into his wide habit sleeves. "Though for now, the only thing that is required of you is that you enjoy the fun and games this day has promised. As well as the food too, of course."

"And the beer!" Rasouk said excitedly, and was about to head off towards the tables when Skipper held out an arm.

"Hold on there, mate. If you don't mind, I'd like to check what you've got in that knapsack of yours' first."

"Absolutely!" the fox said cheerfully, unslinging the bag and pawing it over. "You'll see that I have only what an ordinary traveler would posses. A knife, as you can see, but only for self-defense! I've also got provisions, though they're gettin' pretty old and mouldy. Rope, always comes in handy, an' some tinder 'n' flint. See? Just an empty bag after all that."

The big otter nodded, though Miru couldn't help but the get the impression he was expecting to find something more than those things, and put everything back into the knapsack, except for the knife. "I think I'll keep a safe hold of this, if you don't mind."

"Why not at all! You might want to keep a hold of my staff here, too. I know all about Redwall's policy with weapons an' all. Totally understandable, so long as I can get them back once I leave."

"How long do you plan on staying, Rasouk?" Abbot Fir asked.

"Oh, just for a night, Father Abbot. As weary as I am right now, the traveling life is still _my_ life, and I don't like to stay in one place for too long."

"Very well. I shall show you to one of the guest rooms where you can spend the night. You can keep your provisions there while you attend the feast." And with that, the abbot headed towards the abbey building with the fox trotting off after him.

Once Rasouk was out of hearing range, Marok said to Skipper, "Are you sure about letting him in, Skip? I mean, sure, he does seem... _reformed_, so to speak, and you weren't here the last time he was around, but... he wasn't exactly the most pleasant thing to come by."

Miru couldn't understand it; there was _just something_ about the otter's eyes that didn't seem right. They just didn't seem to match up with the rest of his face. Nevertheless, Skipper smiled and said, "Its like I said, mate. I just can't deny that creature a meal."

* * *

As worried Miru became about Skipper letting in the fox Rasouk, he soon forgot it all as he and the other youngbeasts were relieved of their duties and were caught up in excitement of the boat races, the croquet matches, the greasy pole event, the sack races, the kite flying, the three-pawed races, and just about every other fun activity there was.

Miru even forgot about being nervous at the thought of there being so many new faces around the abbey. Pretty soon everybeast looked the same: jolly and full of laughter.

Of course there was also when Friar Tumble finally announced that all of the food was ready to be served. Everybeast gathered out onto the lawns to hear Abbot Fir give the grace.

"Fur and whisker, tooth and claw,

All who enter by our door.

Thanks to seasons, praise the fates,

For this peace within our gates.

Seasons of plenty,

Days of peace

In Redwall, may these never cease.

Good comradeship,

Long life and health:

Our Abbey's precious wealth.

From winter's white to summer's gold,

From spring to autumn, we uphold

These bounties Mother Nature brings.

Respect her earth and living things."

A loud and grateful "Amen!" from the animals, and the feasting commenced.

The tables were set up buffet-style in Great Hall, Cavern Hole, and the orchard outside, so that there was a great crowd of hungry beasts waiting for their turn to load up their plates with:

Salads of lettuce, raddish, fennel, tomato, onion, carrot, leek and corn; cheeses of yellow, red and white, studded wit nuts, herbs and apple; loaves of teabread, nutbread, spicebread; raspberry muffins; blackberry scones; fruitcake; vegetable stew; iced cake with whipped cream; Bell Tower pudding; woodland summercream pudding; wildcream pudding; six-layer trifle; sweetmeadow custard with honeyglazed pears; wildgrape woodland pie with quince and hazelnut sauce; October ale; fresh milk; blackcurrant wine; strawberry cordial; nutbrown beer; raspberry fizz; elderberry wine; damson juice; herb tea; cold cider; hot candied chestnuts; almond wafers topped with pink cream; woodland pie; pear and plum crumble; parsley and cucumber salad with carrot and fennel; orchard fruit cake with buttercup cream center; blueberry cream tart; mint and apple tea; wild cherry and glazed plum gateau with elderflower cream; candied chestnuts; honeyed blackberries; beetroot port; celery and woodland herb dip; maple and mint cream trifle; apple turnovers; damson pudding; vegetable pasties; hazelnut and pear flans; strawberry cream; mint wafers; honeyed plums; woodland trifle; maplecream tart; fruit and cream trifle; shrimp and bulrush soup with plenty of hotroot pepper thrown in; deeper'n'ever pie; and a colossal Abbot Cake.

And that was only to name but a _few._

Miru had never seen so much food in all his life. Of course, he had also never seen so many different creatures either, all of them laughing and happy. So it was fitting that there was such a great quantity of food. And it was all of such great quality, too. Everything was more than delicious, it was... the young marten didn't think he could come up with the words to describe the wonderful taste of the Redwall food. So he decided not to even try. Instead he simply went through the buffet line and ate more food than he ever had done in his entire life, sitting amongst all of the other beasts, laughing and smiling along with them.

As the feasting went on, some creatures took the opportunity to put on the acts they had planned. Moles and hedgehogs performed "magic" tricks; otters and squirrels performed acrobatic feats; and clowns put on comical acts of baffoonery. And then some other creatures started playing their instruments again, influencing a group of animals to start singing and dancing.

He didn't feel out of place, Miru realized. He didn't feel like an outsider, anymore. He felt like he was one of them. Like he truly belonged.

The marten felt so surprised and happy by this that he didn't realize yet that he hadn't seen Skipper in the crowds for awhile...

* * *

After instructing his otters to take turns at the maingates in case anybeast else came by, Skipper Rorac circulated through the crowds; always smiling and nodding politely to everybeast, but always keeping an eye out for Rasouk.

Finally, after awhile, the fox appeared in a group watching moles wrestle. Skipper then kept one eye on Rasouk ever since then, his whole body tense as he awaited for the fox's prank to strike. The otter had tried to get Rasouk to tell him what it was he intended to do, but the fox repeatedly said that nobeast would get hurt, and that that ought to be good enough for Rorac.

But it wasn't. Rorac didn't trust the fox to pull a harmless stunt. Except he didn't fully believe Rasouk would actually do anything... _extreme_ while inside the abbey. After all, there were several other creatures there besides Skipper that Rasouk wouldn't want to mess with. Why would he want to do anything dangerous when he was surrounded by brawny otters and prickly hedgehogs and skillful shrews?

Soon, however, Rorac saw that he was going to find out just what the fox's intended prank was about. He noticed Rasouk, lounging casually against the abbey building, subtly beckoning the otter with a small jerk of his head to follow him. Once satisified he had caught Skipper's attention, Rasouk then slipped inside the abbey while nobeast seemed to be watching.

After waiting for a moment, Skipper followed suit, casually entering the abbey without anybeast noticing. Once in the Great Hall, the otter couldn't see where Rasouk had disappeared to amidst the crowd that was gathered inside. But then he suddenly saw a flash of orangey-red by the staircase leading up the dormitories.

Recognizing the color as Rasouk's, the otter, making certain that nobeast was paying any attention, headed towards the stairs. His heart was beginning to pound and his brow was beginning to sweat. It was one thing to sneak around while his fellow Redwallers were asleep in bed, but to do it while they were wide awake and in the same room...

Nevertheless, Skipper made it to the stairs without any detection and made his way up. Once in the hallway, he saw Rasouk waiting halfway down, leaning his elbow against the wall with a smile on his smug face.

"Anybeast see you?" the fox asked.

The otter shook his head.

"Good. Now follow me."

Knowing he was not going to like whatever the fox had come up with, the otter nonetheless followed him down the rest of the hallway, turning a corner or two, before opening one of the doors and standing aside for Skipper to enter.

Stepping in, the otter saw that it was one of the guest rooms, and judging by the sight of the fox's knapsack sitting on a nearby bench, it was also the same room that Abbot Fir chose for Rasouk.

"Alright," said Skipper once the fox closed the door behind them. "Just what is it that you wanted t-?"

"Shhh!" interrupted Rasouk, placing a claw to his lips.

Skipper stared at him with raised eyebrows.

"I'll show you in a minute, hold on," the fox said as he went over to the knapsack. The otter watched as he went digging around for a moment, before pulling forth the long coils of rope that Rorac found in it earlier, and separated them into two.

Rasouk then turned and walked over to Skipper and, in a rather business-like manner, took the otter's left wrist and pulled it behind his back.

"Hey, wha-?" was all the startled otter could get out before his other wrist was also seized and pulled behind his back.

The fox then swiftly twisted one of the ropes around Skipper's wrists, locking them together in a tight knot. Once they were secure, he then took the other rope and wrapped it around the otter's ankles, entwining his rudder as well.

Rorac was so shocked by the turn of events that he couldn't find it in himself to even try to fight back.

Next, a long white cloth appeared before Skipper's face before it was pulled over his mouth and knotted behind his head, gagging him.

Teetering on his footpaws, the otter glared, baffled, as Rasouk stepped around to face Skipper.

"Now then," the smiling fox said. "The prank I have in mind is called a certain name. It is called, 'From Victim to Hero'. And the way how it goes, or at least how the first half goes, is this: you remain here, all tied up and helpless, and wait for me to come back when its time for you to be the hero. It really is a fun game, I think. Quite amusing, really, I'm sure you'll end up enjoying it. Oh, and just in case anybeast just so happens to walk in, I've got to keep you from being discovered. I mean, after all, how exactly would you explain your current condition to all your friends?"

And with that, Rasouk stepped up right alongside Rorac and gave him a good shove forward. Skipper landed belly-down on the floor with a grunt and a thud, before being rolled over onto his back by Rasouk, who then slid the breathless otter across the floor, right underneath the bed.

"There," Skipper heard the fox say from up above. "Now you just wait here and enjoy the... the, um... _quiet_, while I go and enjoy the feast. And don't worry, Skip. I won't forget about you. I might bring you a trifle later on."

There was then the sound of footpaws walkling across the floor, followed by the sound of the door opening, and then closing, and Skipper was alone, bound and gagged, hidden beneath a bed.

To say the least, Skipper was in shock. He didn't know what else to do but lie there. He had just been tied up without so much as a fight, and was now a prisoner in his own home. So _this_ was the prank Rasouk had been planning to do all along? To keep Skipper from enjoying the feast? But then what was all that about becoming "the hero"? The otter racked his brains to think of just what that could mean, only to come up blank.

Immersed in a world of dusty darkness, Skipper stared up at the bottom of the bed. He sighed through his nose. It was all so strange. And confusing. And silly. ...Matter of fact, it was more than that, it was _stupid._ Why should he, Skipper of otters, just lie there, under a dark bed, while the rest of the animals, including that damn fox, enjoy the sun and the food and the games? He worked just as hard as they to prepare it!

Almost immediately Rorac heard Rasouk's voice in his ears: _Because I know something that the other animals do not._

Sighing through his nose again, Skipper realized he had no choice but to go along with the idiotic game that the fox concocted... but at the very least, he could do it _without_ being tied up.

Grunting, the otter arched his back so he could have more room to try and break his bonds. Within moments, however, after twisting and turning his wrists, the otter realized that Rasouk knew more than a thing or two about knots. Not only that, but the rope was fresh and strong, not too thin and not too wide. The same went for the rope entwining his ankles and rudder.

He was completely immobilized, unable to break free.

Giving another grunt, this time in frustration, the otter began to try to bite through his gag-

_Knock, knock, knock_

-Skipper's eyes popped as his nostrils made a sharp intake of air. His shoulders tensed as he heard the sound of the door opening. Was Rasouk coming back?

"Hello? Mr. Rasouk? Are you in here? I've got some fresh flowers that I thought you'd like for your room."

Sister Grace. There was no mistaking that sweet, motherly voice. Plus there was nobeast in Redwall who would sooner freshen up a guest's room than enjoy herself at a feast.

Rorac laid still and quiet as he listened to the kindly hedgehog walk over to the small bedside table. There was a small _clink_ sound, obviously a vase of flowers being put down. As the footsteps of Sister Grace started to walk back towards the door, the otter squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath, knowing full well that Rasouk spoke true when he said that Skipper would have no way to explain his predicament to anybeast if they found him in such a state.

_...Unless... _

The otter's eyes opened.

Unless he simply told her that it was some of his crew who tied him up? That they had decided to play a prank on him? Yes, yes that was feasible! Otters loved to play tricks on each other, it was fairly common knowledge. He could even ask the Sister if she would keep this quiet, as he would not want this to get around? Grace would comply to that, she'd be considerate about saving him his pride.

All this went through Skipper's mind in a flash, and the otter grunted for a third time, trying to wiggle his way past the over-hanging blankets. Only to end up whacking one of the bedposts painfully with his tail.

"Hello?" came the startled voice of Sister Grace. "Is somebeast in here?"

Realizing that he could not get out from under the bed, Rorac tried to call out for help from behind his gag. Unfortunately:

"Mmsstah Mmrrace, ith mhh, Mmppher. I'keh beh tieff uph," was all the otter could get out.

Silence answered Skipper.

Followed by the Sister saying, "Ooohhh, _I _see. Somebeast is trying to play a joke on me, aren't they? Trying to spook me into thinking there's a ghost around here, eh? Well, I'm not having it!"

And with that came the sound of footpaws hurrying towards the door and slamming it shut.

Once again the Skipper was left alone, still underneath the bed, still tied up, and still gagged. Unable to break free, unable to get out from under his bar-less cage, and unable to call out for help.

He was the perfect captive.

Sighing deeply through his nose, the defeated otter laid his head limply against the sandstone floor. Never before had he ever felt so helpless. So weak and useless, like a newborn cub!

It wasn't fair. After all that hard work everybeast went through for the feast, he alone was the only one who wasn't able to enjoy it. All because of one stupid fox...

Skipper sighed despondantly again, and began to realize that his limbs were in danger of falling asleep. Just one thing after another. Well, considering all that what Rasouk's joke _could've_ been, he supposed this was perhaps one of the safest...

Except, the horrified otter suddenly realized, that Rasouk was now alone with Miru!


	19. Searching

**Chapter 19**

Miru was having a glorious time. He couldn't remember having so much fun!

There was cheering for the clowns and the acrobats; applauding the plays and puppet shows that were put on; yelling encouragement during the spine-tusseling and wrestling matches; laughing as the dibbuns battled in the greasy pole event; shouting happily as the Redwallers and woodlanders raced one another in all the different races: the three-pawed race, the sack race, the wall-top race, the boat race, and the swim race.

It was during the swim race that the pine marten finally thought of Skipper, wondering why the otter wasn't in participating.

_Probably didn't want to show anybeast up,_ Miru thought with a smile.

But then he realized that it had been awhile since he had seen Skipper anywhere. The young marten had been so caught up in all the exhilarating merrymaking he had completely forgotten about Skipper!

And turning his head this way and that... this way and that... Miru could find no sign of his otter-friend.

Furrowing his brow and stepping away from the crowds, the pine marten scanned the abbey grounds as he walked from the pond to the orchard, to the walltops from the gardens, from the gatehouse to the beehives. He ran into a good many beasts, and a good many otters, all sunny-faced and cheery.

But no Skipper.

Figuring that he must be inside-

_-Of course he's inside, that's the only other place where he could be-_

-Miru headed towards the abbey building and walked inside, eyes roving all over the gathered crowds.

No sign of Skip.

Squeezing his way through the crowds and carefully looking from one end of Great Hall to the other, the pine marten hurried down into Cavern Hole, where still more animals were feasting and merrymaking. He even went to the warm kitchens and down into the cool cellars.

And no matter how hard he looked, there was not a hair or claw of Skipper Rorac.

Beginning to feel rather frantic, Miru tore back up the stairs into Great Hall.

_Where is he? WHERE IS HE?_

Ah! Perhaps he went back to their room for some sleep?

Ignoring the fact that this was unlikely, as Skipper was one of those beasts with unbridled energy, the pine marten raced back to the room he shared with his otter-friend.

The room was empty.

Miru stared, and blinked. "Skip?" he asked, knowing it was impossible for him to be answered.

Where could he have gone? He wasn't outside, he wasn't in the Great Hall, he wasn't in Cavern Hole, and he certainly wasn't in there room...

...Of course there were _more_ rooms in the abbey, maybe he was in one of those?

Not knowing why on earth Skipper would be anywhere else at this time, the pine marten began the trek of going from one bedroom to the next, only to find each and every one of them empty. He went into the dormitories, the nursery, the library, _where could he have gone?_

The attic, maybe?

Miru stared at the dark, gloomy staircase that led up to the abbey's highest room. The attic was another place he'd been too scared to venture, though unlike with the belltower, nobeast had ever tried to get him to go up there. Surely he did not want to go someplace where even Skipper did not go?

...Except what if Skipper _had_ gone up to the attic? He couldn't think of any reason _why,_ but he had to go up, just to say that he did. One couldn't be too careful.

And so the pine marten approached the dark, dusty steps, and started his ascent. His paws began to shake as he went up, higher and higher as the world around him became blacker and blacker.

Finally the end of the stairs was in sight, and soon, Miru found himself at the top. He looked out over the attic, which was darker and dustier than the stairwell. Thin streams of light poured in from closed windows, creating a rather spooky atmosphere.

"Skip?" the marten whispered. "Skip?"

No answer.

And as his eyes slowly became used to the dark, he began to see obscure outlines... possibly furniture... or monsters...

Quickly deciding that Skipper was not up here after all, Miru whirled around and hurried down the stairs, his heart pounding in his ears. Once he reached the bottom of the steps, the pine marten breathed deeply, shaking dust from his fur and habit.

_Alright... not in the attic. Not in the room, not in the dormitories, not the nursery or the library..._

The belltower. That was the one and only place in the abbey that Miru had not searched yet.

* * *

The pine marten stood before yet another flight of stairs, only somehow this was far scarier. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that this one was far taller, and far brighter, than the ones leading up to the attic. At least then he didn't have to see how high he was going, but _these_ stairs...

Miru breathed deeply. It was, again, the only place in the abbey he had not searched for Skipper yet. For all he knew, the otter was probably up there, taking a break from all merriment and snoozing the afternoon away.

But there was only one way to find out.

With great effort, the pine marten placed one shaking paw on the banister, and placed one equally shaking footpaw up onto the first step.

There. That was done. Now for the rest...

* * *

Miru climbed higher, and higher. Up, up, up, determinedly not looking down, tightening his grip on the railing, putting one footpaw a step higher than the other. Until finally...

He had made it. He was at the very top of the belltower, facing the two gigantic abbey bells. Skipper and some of the Redwallers had told him the bells' names, but at the moment he couldn't remember them.

Except that mattered very little to him...

...for once again, there was no sign of Skipper.

The pine marten stared. No, no it was... it was impossible. He had searched the entire abbey, every single room and place... how could there be no sign of Skipper? Unless...

Unless he left the abbey alltogether.

Not knowing or understanding why his otter-friend would go and do a thing like that without telling him was beyound the young marten's mind. How could he? How could he leave Miru like this? Surely he would... he would not... _would he?_

It was all too confusing, far too unsettling. He never should have come up here; being so high up made his head dizzy. The pine marten again gripped the railing and made his way down, though his body shook much harder than before.

How could there be no sign of Skip? Why would there not be? His friend wouldn't leave him all alone. At least not for as long as _this._ Oh, where was he? _Where was Skip?_

Suddenly, Miru's foot missed a step. He stumbled, gasping, but thankfully still had a steady hold on the railing. Pulling himself up into a sitting position on one of the steps, the marten huddled against the wall. He had only one flight of steps to go, but he could not move. He could not think, either. He could not do anything except breathe... breathe... breathe...

"Miru?"

Giving a start, the young marten looked down to see another creature had entered the belltower. It was Marok, and the mouse was looking up at him curiously.

"Hey, what're you doing up there all alone? Were you finally trying to go up and see old Matthias and Methuseleth? They're magnficent up close."

Miru did not answer. His mouth seemed to be wired shut.

"Are you alright?" Marok asked, coming up the stairs and furrowing his brow. "You don't look well, is something bothering you? Have you eaten too much? And where's Skip? Usually he's always with you..."

Finally, the marten was able to answer, though it took some time for the words to form.

"He... he's gone."

Marok's brow furrowed deeper. "What do you mean? Who's gone? Are you talking about Skip?"

Miru nodded slightly. "I... I can't... f-find him... anywhere."

"Oh, come now, he's gotta be around here somewhere. I'll help you find him..."

The marten shook his head. "I looked... _everywhere._ ...And couldn't find... _anything._ ...He's gone. ...Skipper's gone."

* * *

After coaxing Miru back down the stairs, Marok led the pine marten to the gatehouse, where he had him wait while he went and fetched the abbot and "the others." At the time, Miru didn't realize that "the others" meant Rocc and Soilburr.

"So you say that you have looked everywhere, all over the abbey," said Abbot Fir, peering down closely at the pine marten, "and you didn't find _any_ sign of Skipper Rorac? Not even one?"

"He's _gone,"_ Miru said; why couldn't anybeast seem to understand? "I keep on saying that he's not anywhere in this entire abbey-"

"Now hold on, my son. Did you ask anybeast if they had just seen Skipper?"

The marten thought for a moment, and then shook his head. "No."

"Hmm... then it is probably good that you didn't, for if Skipper is indeed not present, it may cause alarm. But before anybeast asks any more questions," Fir said quickly, raising his paws as the four younger beasts opened their mouths, "_I_ would like to ask one more question. Now Miru, did you have anybeast else help you look for Skipper? Because if it was just you searching, it is possible that you and he simply missed each other."

"Ah, yes, that could be it!" Marok eagerly nodded. "Father Abbot, with your permission, I'd like for me, Rocc an' Soilburr to all split up and search every inch of this abbey. That way if Skipper is still here, there's less chance of us not bumping into him."

"Yes, yes, I think that is a good idea."

And with that, the three young woodlanders hurried out the door, leaving Miru with the abbot. As much as the young marten hoped that the other three would find Skipper, a part of him knew they would only come up empty-pawed.

"Father Abbot," Miru said, trying to control his shaking paws. "If it... turns out that Skipper really is... missing... then, what's to be done?"

"Well," sighed the old abbot. "First off, I would not want there to be an alarm, as there are now far too many beasts to look after. So I suppose I would have one of the young ones fetch Skipper's second-in-command, and have him form a small search party."

"What good would that do?" the young marten demanded.

"I would send the search party out into Mossflower Wood," Fir patiently explained. "If Skipper is no longer in the abbey, then it must stand to reason that he is _outside_ of the abbey. Though who knows why he would leave..."

Suddenly there came a knock at the door, causing the two beasts to jump.

Regaining his composure, the abbot called, "Come in."

The door opened slightly, and in slipped Rasouk the fox.

"Beggin' your pardon, Abbot," the fox said, closing the door behind him. "But I couldn't help seeing you an' those other youngbeasts gathering here, all lookin' a bit... upset and all, and I just couldn't resist listening at the door once I saw the other three dash off."

The other two stared at Rasouk with eyes wide. Again Abbot Fir was the first to speak.

"So you were eavesdropping, Rasouk?"

"Yes, sir, and I do apologize for it, but... well, now that I know... I feel I must do a bit of confessing."

Miru's ears perked, and the hairs on his neck startled to bristle. A bit of confessing?

"What is it you have to confess, my son?" Abbot Fir asked slowly, his brow lowered.

"Well, y'see... earlier, as I was eatin' some scones and drinkin' some bear, I noticed an otter headin' towards the main gates. That was all I saw, really. I mean, I didn't see him leave or anything, but when I looked back a moment later, he was gone."

As the abbot glanced at Miru, who was gazing steadily at Rasouk, the fox quickly went on.

"I mean, I didn't know it was Skipper, at the time; after all, I only met him this morning. And even now I'm not sure it was him, but... well, considering that he's the only otter who seems to be missing..."

"Can you think of anything particular about this otter that you saw?" Abbot Fir asked.

"Well... he was big, like most otters. I don't recall if he was wearing anything special, 'cept for that great big sword on his back..."

"What sword?" Miru asked suddenly. "Skipper didn't carry around a sword."

Rasouk shrugged. "Well, this otter sure did. He had a real fine one, too. In fact, I remember the sword better than I do the otter. It was in a beautiful black scabbard, all nice and polished-like, with a black-bound handle and a giant ruby pommel stone-"

The abbot gave a loud gasp, cutting the fox off. Before anybeast could ask him what was the matter, Abbot Fir rushed out of the gatehouse, the other two following after.

The abbot hurried across the lawns and into Great Hall, where he scurried over to survey the great tapestry of Martin the Warrior.

"Great seasons!" Fir whispered. He then ushered Miru and Rasouk away from the crowds and spoke in a quiet, anxious voice, "The sword is not there anymore! The sword of Martin is missing!"

Looking up, Miru saw that indeed, the magnificent sword that had once belonged to Martin himself, was no longer hanging above the tapestry of its first owner.

"What does it mean?" the young marten asked, knowing he wasn't going to like the answer.

"It means," the abbot answered balefully, "...that for some strange reason... Skipper of otters... may have stolen the abbey's sword!"

* * *

"But that's ridiculous, Abbot!" Marok protested. "Skip can't have possibly stolen Martin's sword, why would he? What gain could he possibly have in taking it?"

He, Rocc, and Soilburr had finally returned to the gatehouse after a fruitless search for their otter-friend, and were just being filled in by the abbot.

"All we know," Abbot Fir said as steadily as he could, "is that Skipper is missing, and so is the sword of Martin. It could mean a great many things, and each of them is more unlikely than the next. Which is why I again must insist that we do not create a disturbance by telling anybeast else about this, except for Skipper's second-in-command and a small band of otters. We need them to go out and see if they can find any sign of Skipper, so we can finally have a reasonable explanation for all of this!"

Within moments, it seemed like, Skipper's second-in-command, a big otter named Streamsleek, stood before the abbot with a small group of fit otters, all of whom looked a bit perturbed by the strange and disturbing news.

"I don't know," Streamsleek said, scratching his head. "That isn't like Skipper, to go off without letting anybeast know about it. Especially taking the abbey's sword without permission. It just doesn't add up, Father Abbot!"

"Adding up or not," Abbot Fir said, "you must go out and see if you can find him and locate the sword. Please, this is most urgent, and I trust you to do it all without anybeast else knowing."

Streamsleek saluted. "Will do, Father. I've got some good trackers here. Hopefully we'll be in an' out, er, I mean, out an' in before anybeast realizes that we've gone."

"I'm going too."

All eyes turned to Miru. The pine marten, who had been silent for the past few minutes, now stood with a firm resolve. "If Skipper is somewhere out there, then I'm going to help find him."

"Now, Miru-" began the abbot, only to be cut off.

"I've made up my mind, Father Abbot, and if anybeast tries to stop me-"

"Aye, we'll let you come," interrupted Streamsleek. His face was both sympathetic and serious. "We've all seen how attached you an' our leader have become. Of course you can help us find him."

"And me," said Marok, standing beside Miru.

"Me too," nodded Rocc.

"Hurr, Oi too!" grinned Soilburr.

"Very well," Abbot Fir said, knowing any argument was hopeless. He turned to Rasouk, saying, "And you, my good fox? You are still a guest at this abbey and may continue to enjoy what's left of the feast."

"Well," the fox said, shuffling his feet. "I know I wouldn't be any good out there; the only tracking skills I have are to find food, and I mostly know only how to avoid beasts, not find them. I'd only be in the way."

"That's alright," said Streamsleek. "We don't want our search party to get too big, otherwise we'd move too slow."

"Very well, then," said the abbot, folding his paws. "Be off with you, though please, Streamsleek, bring the young ones back once dark settles in. You can continue your search tomorrow if you don't find anything tonight."

"Will do, Father Abbot."

And with that, the search party managed to slip out of the main gates unnoticed by the feasting Redwallers. The abbot, pasting on a smile, went to rejoin the festivities.

But Rasouk skulked back to the guest room...

* * *

Skipper Rorac was jerked awake when he felt a pair of clawed paws grip his arm and belly. The otter was then dragged across the floor, out from under the bed. His eyes, having grown used to the darkness, squinted in the light before the image of Rasouk's grinning face came into view.

"Alright!" the fox said cheerfully. "The first part is over. Now its time for you to play the part of the hero!"

Skipper was then rolled over onto his belly, and felt the ropes entwining his ankles and rudder being steadily loosened, and then taken away. The otter groaned in pain; his limbs were still asleep.

Rasouk noticed this and began to rub and slap the life back into his former prisoner's tail and ankles. Once they were sufficiently awake, the fox then did the same with the ropes on Skipper's wrists, untying the knots and rubbing the blood back into them. After the otter's arms began to move on their own, Rasouk then raveled up the ropes and put them back into his knapsack.

Skipper sat up, shaking his arms and legs a bit more before reaching behind his head and untying the gag around his mouth. Meanwhile, the fox came and stood over him, explaining the rest of his game.

"Now you might be wondering, just what is the second half of my prank? Well, it goes like this: first you were the victim, and nobeast knew where you were. And so, due to the fact that you could not be found _in_side the abbey, the Redwallers have surmised that you are _out_side the abbey, and have now sent out a search party for you."

Finally getting the loathsome gag off and licking the inside of his mouth, the otter glared up at Rasouk. "Just why-"

"Now, now, now!" said the fox, holding up a claw. "Do you want me to gag you again? Because I will."

Skipper shut his mouth, scowling up at his tormenter. Rasouk merely smiled, and continued on.

"And what it is that _you_ will be doing, 'Mr. Hero', is that you will be sneaking out of the abbey in order to make it seem like you have indeed been out in Mossflower Wood all along. _And,"_ the fox added, reaching for something hidden beneath the blankets on the bed, "you will be carrying this."

The otter gaped as Rasouk held aloft the sword of Martin the Warrior. "How did-?"

"It was much harder than I would have liked it to be. But thankfully there was one moment in which there weren't any beasts in the Great Hall, so I was able to get it down before anybeast came back in. Though I really do mean I had only _one_ moment to place that stepladder in front of the tapestry, climb up it, grab the sword, and jump down and hide it behind my back as some mouse-ladies came walking by. They didn't even notice the sword was gone!" the fox added with a laugh.

Skipper, however, looked far angrier than he ever had in the past. The big otter got to his feet and stalked towards Rasouk, growling, "You bush-tailed bandit! How _dare_ you-!"

"The abbeydwellers think that _you_ have taken the sword, Skipper," the fox said quickly, a sly grin on his face.

Skipper stopped dead in his tracks.

"But don't worry," Rasouk went on. "I've already come up with an explanation for you taking it: you had a vision that Martin the Warrior was warning you about something, and you suddenly felt compelled to take the sword and go out to confront whatever evil it was that was coming. Of course you're not sure what it all was, you just felt like somebeast was acting for you. I'm sure the abbeybeasts will believe that. Things like that are always happening in their history books."

Rorac slowly shook his head, his mouth agape. "But... but..."

"But don't you see, Skipper? This is how you get to be the hero in my game. You were just trying to protect the abbey is all, everybeast will understand. After all, wouldn't you want _that_ to be your one foolish act instead of that one _other_ thing you did?"

Skipper's paws shook, but he made no reply.

"Good," smiled Rasouk. "Now then, you better be off. Hm, let's see..." The fox crossed over to the window, parted the curtains to look out over the eastern side of the abbey lawns. "Oh good, nobeast is in sight. Here, get me the rope from my knapsack, I'll tie them together and let you down through the window. Then you can sneak your way across the lawn and out through that small wallgate there. Go on, hurry up."

Obediantly, the big otter complied silently to the order, retrieving the ropes and passing them to Rasouk. Once the ropes were tied together and flung out the open window, Skipper, with the sword of Martin slung over his back, climbed out onto the sill.

He did, however, pause before lowering himself and glowered at the fox, saying, "Why? Just _why_ do you do this to me?"

Rasouk paused, as if seriously considering the question...

...only to answer, "Honestly? It tickles me."

* * *

The sun was nearing the horizon in the west, creating a gorgeous array of gold, orange, purple and scarlet in the sky.

But Miru couldn't have cared less. All that mattered to him was finding Skipper, a feat which seemed to prove more impossible by the minute.

The otters had been unable to find any tracks that belonged to their chieftain; the grounds outside the abbey were far too covered in the footprints of the visiting woodlanders, some of whom were actually otters. This left them with the option of splitting up into four groups, with a youngbeast in each, and heading into the four different directions from the abbey.

Miru was in the group that went east, and desperately searched for anything that would given any inclination on just where his Skipper could be. A pawprint, a claw mark, a piece of hair, a scent, _anything..._

But all that they could find was woods, woods, and more woods. It was almost like when Miru had escaped from the castle, and was left to wander about on his own... he could still remember that rainy night, all huddled up in an abandoned burrow under a tree, waiting for daybreak.

Once the sun had risen, the tired pine marten left the burrow and continued his way south, always keeping an eye out for something to eat or for another burrow to pass the night away...

Miru blinked and shook his head. He didn't want to relive those memories. Not now, not ever.

All that mattered was that he find Skipper.

After a few minutes more, however, the young marten began to overhear the mutterings of Skipper's crew. He couldn't catch all that they said, but it was enough: they were considering giving up for the night and heading back to the abbey, as the night was swiftly coming on.

But Miru didn't want to stop. He wanted to keep on searching until he found-

-something moved. There, ahead of him in the far distance.

_Skip?_

It was hard to tell, especially in the fading sunlight, though whoever or whatever it was had been big... and dark...

Deciding to throw caution to the wind, the young pine marten bolted from the search party, ignoring the otters' calls, and ran full speed into the forest, brushing past overhanging branches and bushes.

"Skip?" Miru called out as he ran.

There, again, he saw a flash of some large creature amidst the trees.

"Skip!"

The pine marten ran faster than he ever had in his life, ploughing through shrubs and branches, not caring as they scratched his face and limbs and tore his clothes.

_"SKIP!"_

Miru finally caught up with the large creature, coming out from behind one of the trees...

...and felt as if all the breath in his lungs had been sucked away.

The pine marten stumbled backwards, eyes wide, and tripped over a root, landing on his back as a massive shadow loomed over him.

A huge paw reached for him...

...a huge paw with fearsome sharp claws.

"Little prince... I have found you."


	20. Found

**Chapter 20**

"After all this time..."

Miru lay on the ground, unable to move, barely able to breathe, as the dreadful claws came closer and closer towards his face.

"After all these seasons of searching..."

Finally the pine marten was able to get himself to move, though it was only to clumsily scramble backwards in the grass. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't get his body to try to get up and run... nor could he tear his eyes away from the horrific figure that overshadowed him.

No, it couldn't be... it couldn't...

"After all the coldness, the loneliness, the fear of never seeing you again..."

And yet there was no denying that weird, striped tawny coat... the amber fangs... those blazing yellow-green eyes with strange, slitted pupils... that voice... that horrible, horrible voice!

"I have found you, little prince."

The pine marten felt his head and shoulder bump into a tree. He couldn't move back any farther. He was trapped. A cold sweat broke out over his body, and his heart, which seemed to had frozen, was now beating so hard against his rib cage it threatened to break through.

There was no denying that it was Zurzak who stood over him, extending those dreadful claws towards his face. The wildcat seemed larger, somehow... yet he also looked thinner, grayer... his fur and robes were tousled and travel-stained... and his eyes seemed to glow with a misty insanity... and his claws, and his fangs, seemed much longer... sharper...

Finally those frightening claws touched his face.

Miru opened his mouth to scream, but only a gasping whimper could come out. He squeezed his eyes shut, weakly pawing at the trees roots and the dirt beneath him.

"I thought I lost you."

Zurzak's voice was uncomfortably close. Miru could actually feel his breath on his face.

"I thought that I'd never find you... or worse, that I'd find your frozen cold body lying dead in the snow..."

The claws were followed by the rest of the paw, which cupped the trembling young marten's cheek. Miru's toes and tail curled, his shoulders hunched. The dirt beneath his paw was dry... and powdery...

"But here you are... alive... and well... and so much more beautiful than before-"

Taking as big a pawful of the dry dirt as he could, Miru flung up his paw, throwing it all into Zurzak's horrific face, causing the wildcat to wretch his paw away with a surprised snarl to furiously rub at his eyes. The rest of the pine marten's body finally obeyed him and he blotted from his sitting position, ducking past the wildcat's bulk and speeding through the forest with only the thought of getting as far away from that demon as possible.

_"NOO-OO-OO-OO!" _

A bloodcurdling scream from behind only made Miru run faster, twisting, turning and swerving amongst the trees and bushes in order to throw his pursuer off.

_"Don't leave me again! Come back to me, little prince!"_

Miru ignored the terrifying call, runnning faster and faster, dodging this way and that, his footpaws pounding the solid earth painfully. Soon, however, his legs started to get weary. He pumped his arms desperately for more speed. His lungs felt as if they were on fire. His breath sounded ragged in his ears.

As he ran through the woods, the pine marten noticed how the branches seemed to reach for him hungrily, how the roots tried to snare his feet and hinder him. Darkness was beginning to set in, and the tears that sprouted from the corners of his eyes made it almost impossible to see where he was going.

_Just like that dream..._

But the young marten ran on, desperate to escape his pursuer, whose heavy, pounding footsteps never faded away from Miru's windblown ears. Even though it was summer, the air was suddenly colder, the chilly wind biting into the young marten's body. Every intake of air was beginning to feel like a piercing dagger in his throat.

_No, must keep going, must keep goin-_

Then the unexpected happened.

Both of Miru's ankles were suddenly seized by two large, strong paws.

Abruptly yanked from his run, the pine marten fell forward with a scream, landing harshly on the ground before being dragged backwards. Grunting, squealing and shrieking, Miru's claws dug into the ground as he was pulled backwards, trying to find anything he could use to fight with; a stone, a branch, another bit of dry dirt, _anything!_

The paws then released his ankles, but in a flash were on his shoulders, forcing him to turn over on his back... forcing him to look up and see Zurzak's strange, slitted green eyes flicker down at him. Miru screeched, fright and alarm overtaking his senses. He tried to fight, to get out from under the larger creature, flailing his paws at the wildcat's face.

Miru's screams were cut off when one of the clawed paws closed itself around his neck, silencing his cries to choked moans and pinning his head to the ground. The young marten reached up and tried to pry the claws loose, but the other clawed paw seized his right wrist and held it to the forest floor.

Whimpering and trying to sink his own claws into Zurzak's wrist, Miru lay helpless beneath the huge wildcat.

"Shhh," whispered Zurzak, his face once again uncomfortably close to the pine martens'. "Shhh... its alright, little prince, its alright. I understand that you're scared, but its all over now... Shhh, shhh, its alright, little prince. Zurzak's here to help you... here to take care of you... here to keep you warm..."

Miru sobbed, squeezing his eyes shut, his left paw sliding weakly to the ground. He couldn't fight anymore, his body was too tired. It was as if the mere sight of his greatest fear had reduced him back to his old self: weak, small, helpless. He could only lay there, a crying, crumpled pine marten, unable to move, or to speak, or-

"Get. Off. Of him._ Now."_

Miru opened his eyes.

He saw Zurzak raise his head slowly to look at the unseen speaker. His paws began to quake. His tail began to twitch. He turned his own head so that he too could look and see...

...Skipper Rorac, holding aloft the sword of Martin.

"Deaf as well as a bully?" the otter growled, taking a threatening step forward. "I said get off him. _Now."_

For a moment, nobeast moved.

Then slowly, Zurzak sat up and carefully put up his paws. "I don't want to fight you, waterdog-"

"My names' not 'waterdog', its Rorac," Skipper snapped. "But its Skip to you."

"Alright, Skip-"

"And I don't want to kill you, either, cat, so just continue getting up off of the marten. Go on, get off."

Slowly, carefully, the wildcat complied, standing up to his full height and taking a step back from the limp pine marten.

"You alright there, Miru?" Skipper said, keeping his fiery gaze and the end of Martin's sword on Zurzak.

Miru didn't need to see the wildcat to know that he blinked and looked down at him.

"Miru?" Zurzak repeated softly. "...That's a handsome name..."

"Shut it," Skipper growled. To Miru, he asked again, "You alright there, little mate?"

"Yeh... yes," the pine marten answered, hardly able to look away from the otter.

As relieved and ecstatic Miru was to see Skipper, he couldn't help but be unnerved at how... _angry_ the otter looked. His sharp teeth were clenched, the hairs on his neck were bristled, and his eyes were so filled with such barely contained rage that he looked ready to kill or maime at any minute.

Not like the Skipper he knew...

"I'm afraid you don't understand," Zurzak was saying in the same soft voice, but again he was cut off.

"I don't need to understand," snarled Skipper, taking a step towards Miru, still keeping his sword trained on the wildcat. "You are going to get out of here, cat, and leave, and never return to Mossflower. And my little mate an' I are going to forget all about you."

"I'm afraid I cannot allow that."

And with that, Zurzak withdrew from his cloak a sword which had been hidden there the whole time. In a flash he was taking a leap over Miru towards Skipper, brandishing his sword expertly. Quick as lightning, the otter blocked one, two, three of the wildcat's attacks, stepping backwards as he did.

Miru scrambled up on all fours as he watched the two creatures battle each other savagely, his eyes wide and his brow furrowed. Steel blade clashed against steel blade as Skipper and Zurzak fought, both creatures moving with such blurring speed and ferocity that it seemed out of a dream. They hacked their swords so jarringly that even Miru could feel the vibrations. Despite his fear and anxiety, the marten couldn't help but wonder if their paws were growing numb.

Yet the two titans continued to fight, panting and blowing, sweating and striking, all the while circling each other amongst the trees, which they sometimes used as shields to block a blow from their opponent. If ever Zurzak struck his sword into a tree, he easily yanked it back out, but Skipper, not having nearly as much strength, was forced to trip the wildcat up with his rudder if ever his sword stuck in a trunk.

The fighting continued... and blood suddenly appeared, though it was hard to say who was the first one struck, for both now had cuts in various places. Miru placed the back of his paw against his mouth, sickened and horrified at the gruesome sight.

Suddenly the two rivals locked blades, Zurzak towering over Skipper and managing to force the otter to lean over backwards. Skipper strained and groaned fiercely under the weight, just barely able to keep himself from being toppled.

Then Zurzak's mouth opened wide and his fangs sank into Skipper's neck. The otter roared and jerked away, managing to fling his paws up sideways, hitting the wildcat in his own neck and sending his sword flying. Skipper was about to stumble away, one paw holding his bleeding throat, when all of a sudden-

-Zurzak's paw shot out and gripped the blade of Martin's sword.

With one quick, mighty twist, the sword was wrenched away from the otter's paw and flung to the side. The thunderstruck otter suddenly found himself being enveloped by a mound of fur, claws and fangs, and the world turned red and dusty.

Miru screamed as the two opponents met each other in a now swordless combat, using only tooth, claw, tail and muscle. Paws struck, teeth bit, tails whipped, cloaks ripped, and claws scratched with such ferocity that a cloud of dust began to form around them. The pine marten once again found himself unable to move. He could only sit there, transfixed by the violent scene of the two huge opponents rolling around on the ground, tearing each other to pieces.

Suddenly there was an almighty roar of pain as Skipper was laid out on his back with Zurzak's jaws locked on his chestfur, as if trying to rip the hide off of his body. Miru again screamed, far louder than he ever had, when-

_"Mossflowerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!"_

"_Redwaaaaaaaallllllll__!"_

-a volley of stones came flying out of nowhere, squarely hitting Zurzak and forcing the wildcat to release his hold on Skipper, who fell limply on the ground.

It was Skipper's crew who flung the stones, and they were now within sight as they raced foward, brandishing javelins and slings and bellowing more war-cries. Marok, Rocc and Soilburr were among them, hurling their own slings and screaming their own cries as well.

Pummeled with stones and severely outnumbered, the hissing, spitting wildcat got up and made a retreat-

-but not before making one last lunge at Miru.

The pine marten felt as if he would faint at the sight of that monster thundering towards him, tattered black cloak flying about his scarred, bleeding frame - but in an instant Marok, who had managed to retrieve Martin's sword, stood in Zurzak's way, slashing the sword in such a way that the wildcat was forced to leap to the side and hurtle himself further into the woods, chased by a small number of furious otters, before disappearing from sight.

And just like that, the marten regained control of his body and he raced past Marok to Skipper's side.

The fallen otter was covered in dirt, sweat, and blood.

Lots of blood.

Miru's paws shook like they had never shook before.

_No... no..._

No, it couldn't be happening, not again. Not again. No, no, no! It couldn't be, no! Not his Skip, not his Skipper. His friend, his best friend, his protecter, his healer... his big brother...

Skipper's eyes fluttered, however, and his eyes looked straight at Miru. The pine marten's heart fluttered as well, a spark of hope flickering inside. Even in his current state, Skipper looked handsome.

"Lit...ull... mate," the otter rasped, managing to form a small, brief smile.

Miru smiled back as his eyes welled up with tears, grasping his friend's paw. "I'm here, Skip, I'm here. It'll be okay, I promise. Just - just don't... just... wait until we get you to the abbey. So Sister Grace can look at you, she'll fix you up, and then, and then, and then I'll take care of you! Just like how you took care of me! It'll all be alright, Skip, it'll be alright, I promise, just... just promise, just... just that... that you... just wait and... and..."

"That's right," said a serious voice Miru would later recognize as Streamsleek, but at the moment he could barely hear him, let alone care to recognize him. "I think its best that we move him, carry him back to Redwall. Its the only thing we can do. Quick, mates, let's make a stretcher. We can use our belts. Riverjack, Streamer, take off your tunics, wrap Skip up in 'em. Miru, you can hold them in place. You two, run back to the abbey an' let the Sister know we're comin'. Rocc, go with 'em, just in case you prove to be faster than they are. The rest of you, keep an eye out for any other enemies that may come. Form a circle as we walk."

Within the next few moments, several otters were making a stretcher out of their belts and carefully laying their leader on it while Miru wordlessly held a couple of tunics to the wounds in Skipper's chest. The otter chieftain was then hoisted up by his followers and carried off through the woods as swiftly and as steadily as they could possibly manage. The rest of the otters, along with Marok and Soilburr, formed a circle around them, slings and javelins at the ready.

It was awkward for so many beasts to be gathered so closely, especially for the shorter pine marten, who couldn't take as big a stride as the otters. But there was nothing else to be done, so Miru walked as quickly as his tired legs would let him. The world seemed to pass before Miru's eyes in a haze. The last few hours had been so horrifying that he was so drained that he couldn't get himself to think straight. The only clear thoughts in his head was the hoping and fervent prayers that his friend would live and not die.

_Oh please, Skip, don't die. Don't die on me, please not again, not again..._

* * *

The sun had set and the sky was a mix of crimson red and star-studded blackish-blue by the time the group finally was within sight of the abbey. The main gate was open, and standing over the threshold, a watchful Rocc, holding up a lantern, called over his shoulder, "They're here! Sister Grace, they're here!"

The round, prickly form of the Infirmary Sister appeared in the gateway, and the approaching beasts soon heard her instructions. "Bring him into the Gatehouse! I've set up everything I'll need in there. Hurry, please, I've got all my helpers and all my herbs and bandages, just please, hurry..."

Relief suddenly shot through Miru; they were home, back at the abbey! And now Sister Grace was going to look at Skip, see what there was to be done, and fix him up good and proper... and yet he was still bombarded by the fear that no matter what was said or what was done... they still might be too late. Relief and hope grappled with fear and paranoia in the young marten's head as he continued walking alongside the otters. His footpaws were sore and his arms ached from having to reach up and press the tunics against Skip's chest, but he ignored it all, knowing that his own discomfort was nothing compared to his friends'.

Finally, the group was ushering Skipper through the abbey gates and into the well-lit gatehouse, where another group, this one of anxious-looking healers, awaited. Sister Grace bustled in afterwards, somehow looking both grim and steady.

"Set him on the bed so I can take a look," the hedgehog instructed.

The otter chieftain was carefully deposited down on the cot, the belt-stretcher eased out from under him. Miru continued to press down on Skipper's wounds, waiting for more instructions.

_Oh please please please please please please please please please please please please..._

Sister Grace was suddenly by his side, nodding. "Let's have a look," she said softly.

Paws giving a slight tremble, the pine marten peeled back the bloodied tunics so the Sister could look upon the damage Zurzak had inflicted. Miru cringed at the sight, and he felt a surge of hatred for that damn wildcat! He looked at Grace, trying to see if he could tell by her face if Skipper's wounds were mortal or not. It was hard to tell just exactly what the hogwife's thoughts were, for her expression had not changed as she looked down at the mess. She carefully examined the wounds, tenderly wiping at them with a clean cloth, causing Skipper to grunt in pain.

Miru waited, his paws beginning to tremble more, his tail twitching restlessly. Why wouldn't she say anything? Why couldn't she just come out and tell them what was going on? Were the wounds bad? Was he going to live? Was he going to die? Was-

Suddenly he realized that the Sister was holding his paw. Swallowing, the marten looked into her face.

Her expression had softened.

"His wounds are not deep. Nor are they infected. They are not fatal. He's going to live, he's going to be alright."

There was the sound of relieved sighs, but it was like listening to them as he fell down from a tree, for the world was turning black and the floor was speeding up to him...

* * *

Skipper Rorac found himself floating in a strange sort of limbo, passing in between several different worlds at once. He saw distorted images, odd faces, heard weird things...

He saw Sister Grace and her healers, and felt something burning on his chest, as well as something cold entering his mouth...

He saw Rasouk's face, distorted and leering, coming close to his; felt the fox's paw on his forehead and heard his voice whispering, "You cannot change the past."

He saw a mousemaid hurrying over to a table, gathering together an assortment of things, and then something cold was pooling into his mouth...

He saw a cruel-looking Abbot Fir lean over him, giving a patronizing smile and shaking his head, saying, "You are not welcome here."

He saw Rasouk lounging in a nearby chair, looking up from a book he was reading and giving a sly wink...

He saw Streamsleek laughing mockingly down at him, reaching his claws down to tweak his chieftain's nose...

He saw Sister Grace and her healers again, their words indistinct and muttered, and again something cool was inside his mouth...

He saw Marok and felt the mouse's paw on his forehead, eyes narrowed and sneaking, whispering, "You cannot be here."

He saw a squirrel that was not Rocc peer over Marok's shoulder, his face grinning ghoulishly...

He saw the abbot again, this time looking concerned and saying something incomprehensible... something cool inside his mouth...

He saw Rasouk again, holding a coil of long rope in his paws, looping it around the otter's neck...

And then he saw Miru.

"Shh," the pine marten whispered, resting a small paw on the otter's shoulder. His blue eyes were soothing and his smile was reassuring. "Go back to sleep."

_No, don't make me go back,_ Rorac thought... and yet it was as though seeing that smile on Miru's face, made all the disturbing images disappear... and Skipper slept soundly.

* * *

Rasouk trotted through the woods towards his den, whistling a jaunty tune and adjusting the large sack of food slung over his shoulder. What a feast! What food, what drinks, what games, and what fun! It had certainly been a much bigger event that any the fox had ever attended in his entire life. Not that he went to many events like that in the first place, anyway.

And it was all made only more interesting by the little joke the fox had decided to play. Rasouk chuckled, reliving yesterday's moments at the abbey: first, he sampled some of the beer and tasted some of the food. It was all prime stuff, everything tasty and ripe, so full of flavor. And then, after watching a few mildly interesting competitions, he snuck into the Great Hall and actually stole the very sword of Martin right from the hooks it hung upon. It had not been an easy task, as he had told Skipper, but he did it! And without getting caught, too.

Next, after hiding the sword in the guest room where he was to sleep in, the fox went back out enjoyed himself some of the feast a little bit more. He rememebered watching the celebrating animals with a feeling of smugness in his chest. All of these silly woodlanders went on with their feast without the slightest clue the abbey's precious sword had been taken down and hidden away. What a load of duffers! He then caught Skipper Rorac peering at him from across the lawn, and decided right then and there it was time to perform the next step in his prank. Making certain nobeast was looking, he guided the Skipper back up to his room. How he loved to give somebeast larger than him orders, and have those orders followed! That was when he tied the otter up (_without so much as a fight,_ the fox thought with a smirk) and hid him under the bed, before going off to enjoy the party a little bit more.

Rasouk couldn't help but give a little skip, feeling quite elated at his triumph. He had taken two of the things that the abbey held dear and hidden them where they couldn't find either! He could hold them all in his claws and play with them as if they were puppets! Oh, how clever he was; there was never a fox more cunning than he!

Finally, once he discovered that there was a group of youngbeasts searching the abbey for Skipper, he then figured it was time to stepp forward and volunteer the "information" that he had seen Skipper walk out the abbey gates with the sword of Martin. Well, if that didn't send those abbeybeasts into a tizzwozz!

Of course, the abbot insisted that they keep that quiet while a search group went out to try and find Skip, but Rasouk decided things would be more entertaining if he "let it slip" that the Skipper of otters had taken Martin's sword into Mossflower. But of course, he didn't do that until he had released Skipper from his bonds and, after giving him the sword, sent him out into Mossflower. Once he saw the otter disappear through the little wallgate, he returned to the feasting, and mentioned to a random plump mouse in passing how the magnificent sword that hung over the tapestry was no longer there. From there the news spread like wildfire, and all Rasouk had to do was pretend he didn't know anything and play dumb while the abbey nearly wound up in hysterics. Abbot Fir was able to maintain some order and get everybeast to calm down, though it was quite clear he was not happy that the abbeybeast had found out about Skipper and the sword anyway.

And he never found out it was Rasouk who told them; he just figured somebeast had simply noticed the sword was missing. Hah! Like any of those over-fed mice would have noticed.

And that was where the joke was supposed to end, more or less. Skipper was supposed to be found by his crew and come back to the abbey, saying he had a strange vision of Martin warning him of some random evil that was outside the abbey...

...except it turned out that there _had_ been something evil outside the abbey.

Here Rasouk's smile faded. He hadn't meant for anybeast to get hurt during his prank, let alone Skip; although, the fox reassured himself, there was no way he could have predicted that the otter would wind up in a fight with a _wildcat_ of all things! There hadn't been one of those creatures in Mossflower for ages. Rasouk had wanted to go and see Skipper, once the otter was brought back, but was barred from doing so like all the others except for the abbot and the healers (and that scrawny little pine marten).

That put a damper on what was supposed to be an amusing evening and a blissful night in a warm soft bed. In fact, it was much more of a damper than having to help wash the dishes and sweep the floors. Fortunately, however, the abbot reassured his guests that, though he sustained several injuries and needed rest, Skipper Rorac was going to pull through, and hopefully be his same old self again. That made Rasouk feel less guilty. Skipper was alright, and nobeast else got hurt, so there was nothing to feel bad about. And not only that, the fox was able to slip inside the gatehouse where Skipper laid early the next morning.

The otter was passed out on a bed, swathed in bandages, while the skinny pine marten sat in a nearby chair with his head laying by Skipper's side. From what Rasouk could see, the otter chieftain was indeed going to be alright; he had no limbs or eyes missing, and his wounds looked like they were being properly taken care of. Which suited Rasouk just fine, as he would still need the otter to continue bringing him more of the abbey's food in the near future.

But at the moment, he would give Skipper a break; not only because he was injured, but also that he, Rasouk, had been given a huge supply of leftover goodies from the feast, as had all the other visitors who were returning home. At first, however, the visitors were timorous about leaving the safety of the abbey, as there was supposedly a wildcat on the loose. From what could be gathered, Skipper's otters had been unable to chase down the creature. This resulted in Skipper's crew splitting up again to escort families back to their farms, though Rasouk declined being given an escort, figuring he could just smell out any wildcat he came by and simply run away.

So all in all, things had worked out smoothly, and Rasouk figured that even now, Skipper still wouldn't have much reason to discontinue their arrangement. Everything was fine.

Taking more careful sniffs, the fox scanned his surroundings for anybeast that might be watching. Sensing no other creature about, he continued on, eager to be huddled up in his den with a load of new food to snack on. Finally making it back to his burrow, Rasouk scurried down the tunnel, opening up his sack and burrying his nose in its contents. Ahh, he could smell maple icing, how he loved-

A large, clawed paw gripped the back of his neck.

His tongue shot out, his eyes bulged.

Before he could try to grapple with his attacker, the fox felt himself forced up against one of the dirt-walls, dropping his bag in the process, scattering scones, tarts and pies all over the floor.

A deep, menacing voice filled his ears.

"Don't move, fox. I'm in no mood to be trifled with."

With his nose no longer in the sweet-smelling bag, Rasouk caught a wiff of blood... and then the undeniable scent of a wildcat.


	21. The Confession

**Chapter 21**

Skipper Rorac opened his eyes.

He was in the infirmary again, laying atop one of the warm, soft, comfortable beds. It appeared to be about noontime, judging by the bright light filtering in through the windows. The otter stared for a moment up at the red sandstone ceiling before giving a deep, well-rested sigh, taking in the scent of the bed's clean white linen. He made to stretch his limbs...

...except he couldn't move them.

Blinking, Skipper realized that his arms were once again folded beneath him, tied with a strong rope. His ankles and rudder were tied together as well. The otter tried to cry out, only to find that a thick cloth had been tied around his mouth again.

Another blink later, and Rasouk was leaning over him, a smirk visible on his leering face. "You know our agreement," the devious fox said, his smirk becoming a wolfish grin. "You feed me with what the abbey feeds you. So you know what that means."

Rasouk raised his arm... which suddenly transformed into the same exact arm that wildcat had: striped, tawny, with long, razor-sharp claws.

"Its time to cut that belly open!"

The claws came flying down, sank into Skipper's midriff-

* * *

-and he opened his eyes again.

Breathing hard, the Skipper of otters raised his head and shoulders - and doubled back in pain.

"Hey, hey there," said a concerned voice. "Calm down. Calm down. Skip, you've gotta take it easy. You just had your chest ripped into!"

Laying his head back down on the pillow, the otter saw that he wasn't in the infirmary after all, but in the gatehouse of all places. Sitting next to him on a chair and carefully holding his bandaged arm was none other than Miru, whose blue eyes were still soothing, and his smile still reassuring.

Taking a few more deep breaths, Skipper asked in a raspy voice, "Why are we in the gatehouse?"

"That was Sister Grace's idea, I think," explained Miru, fluffing the otter's pillow and adjusting the blankets. "They sent a few otters and Rocc up ahead to warn the abbeybeasts, so she figured that we'd save time by just bringing you in here instead of all the way up to the infirmary. I think she was right to do that, too. Grace and her helpers worked on you all night, y'know. Fixing you up. Just like I said they would, remember?"

It took a moment for the otter to remember... before his eyes widened slightly.

All of what happened came rushing back to him: getting mauled by a colossal wildcat with teeth and claws as sharp as knives... and right before he saw the very same wildcat pinning a frail, weakly crying Miru to the ground...

"Oh... yeah..." he said quietly, his eyes darkening.

The mere sight of his little mate getting attacked by a creature of that monstrosity... that it actually dared to touch him, to even go _near_ him... Skipper had never felt such rage...

_No, I have._

He _had_ felt that angry before... and it cost him dearly.

A moment passed, with the otter chieftain laying quietly with his brow furrowed, while the pine marten paused in smoothing out the blankets. Miru then ran a tender paw through Skipper's headfur, tousling it around the bandage. The otter certainly had a lot of bandages; on his head, on his neck, on his shoulders, on his arms, his chest, his back, legs, tail...

"I said we were going to get you back to the abbey, and that you were going to be alright, didn't I, Skip?" the pine marten continued, trying not to think of all the scars that the white wraps hid. "And I was right, wasn't I? Here you are, Skip, and..." he choked, and ended in a weaker voice, "I was right."

Another moment, and Miru was soon struggling to keep himself from falling apart.

"I was so scared!" he burst out, gripping the otter's paw as the whites of his eyes turned red. "I thought I was going to lose you. I thought you were going to be killed! I thought that..." But he couldn't go on.

Skipper stared at the marten before placing his other paw over Mirus' in as firm and as gentle a grip as he could. "You're not going to lose me, mate. You're not going to. Because I promise," he paused, blinking back his own tears and shallowing the lump in his throat. "I promise... that I will always be with you.

"Always."

Miru sniffled, smiled, and replied, "Always."

The two held each others' gazes for yet another moment before their tears gave way to laughter. They giggled and chortled like had never laughed before, and Miru wished he could hug his friend, but was too afraid of causing any more damage. But that didn't matter, for soon there was knocking at the door.

"Come in," the chuckling pine marten called.

The door opened partially, and the heads of Abbot Fir and Streamsleek poked in.

"Good morning," the abbot said pleasantly. "Just wanted to pop in and see how the patient was fairing. Ah, Skipper, I see you are awake. Feeling any better?"

"Nothin' a bit of breakfast won't cure," was the smiling reply.

"Well, its a good thing I decided to bring you a tray then," said the voice of Sister Grace, and the kindly hogwife came bustling into the gatehouse, causing Fir and Streamsleek to jump forward, lest they be pricked by her spines. Following the Infirmary sister were Marok, Rocc and Soilburr, who shut the door behind them.

Miru smiled at the sight of all of them. He had found himself growing quite fond of these beasts. Grace settled the tray of porridge, pancakes, and greensap milk over Rorac's chest while the others found other places to sit. The abbot nestled down into an armchair with Marok perched on the left armrest. Rocc and Soilburr made themselves comfortable on the floor while Streamsleek sat back on his rudder. Grace fussed about with the tray, making certain it was stable and not touching any of Skipper's wounds. Miru reached over, took the cup of milk and held it to Skipper's lips.

"There you are," the young marten gently teased. "Just like how you used to do with me, eh?"

The otter chuckled and accepted the drink. After taking a good sip, Rorac let out a sigh. "Ahh, now this is the life. Gettin' waited on by everybeast and not having to get out of bed or raise your own paws to feed yourself. No wonder you were always gettin' sick, Miru!"

Everybeast laughed, including the pine marten. Sister Grace went and occupied the gatehouse's second armchair as Miru picked up the porridge bowl and began spoon-feeding Rorac.

"Ah, lookit the mighty warrior," grinned Streamsleek. "All laid out as if he were a princess!"

"And _you_ wish you _were_ a princess," retorted a grinning Skipper before taking a spoonful of porridge.

"Hurr, ee gurt woildcat were no princesser, boi okey!" put in Soilburr, drumming his digging claws.

Miru paused for a moment before giving Skipper another spoonful.

"I've never even seen a wildcat, except in the tapestries, and in the pictures in the books," commented Rocc. "Never thought they'd be so... _wild."_

Swallowing his food, Skipper said to Streamsleek in a serious tone, "What became of the wildcat? Do you know?"

"Sadly, no," the other otter replied grimly, crossing his arms.

Miru looked up. His brow furrowed at the news; Zurzak was still out there, alive?

Streamsleek went on. "There were some who went chasing after him, but most of us were set on gettin' you back to the abbey. The others came back some hours after we got you here. Said the cat managed to outrun them, though they were able to follow his path by trailing the blood spots and the pawprints, but after awhile those seemed to disappear. They couldn't find one lick o' blood or one trace of a pawprint. Like the wildcat was a phantom or something."

_An apt description,_ Miru thought darkly, stirring the porridge a little too forcefully.

"How do you suppose he could have done that? Hide his tracks and stop his own bleeding so soon?" Abbot Fir asked after a moment.

"Well, either he must've found all his cuts and managed to cover them up, once he got ahead of the otters, and then was more careful about leaving tracks. Probably just grabbed a branch and brushed the ground after him. It's the only logical thing I can think of, Skip, or... he really was a phantom," Steamsleek added, though he didn't look to be joking.

"Certainly seemed like a phantom, that one did," said Marok. "I thought I'd turn into a jelly once I saw it comin' at me. Thank goodness my body seemed to be acting for me when I swung the sword."

"That's right," said Miru suddenly, looking up at the mouse. "I never thanked you for what you did. If it wasn't for you, that wildcat would've carried me off."

"Ah, think nothing of it," grinned Marok. "You're one of us now, and we all look out for each other."

"But there is one thing that has been on my mind, Skipper," Abbot Fir said, peering closely at the otter. "I wasn't able to ask you before for obvious reasons, but... just what exactly were you doing out there in Mossflower Woods in the first place? And why did you take the sword of Martin? Why did you not tell anybeast about what you were doing?"

Now all eyes were on Skipper. None of the other creatures made a sound; they too had been wondering these exact same things. Except for Miru, who had forgotten all about the reasons why he himself had been out there in the woods. But now, thanks to the abbot's reminder, he was also wondering why Skipper had left the abbey with Martin's sword. And why he hadn't told anybeast, not even Miru, where he was going.

Skipper swallowed the porridge that was already in his mouth. His face seemed... odd, and somewhat thoughtful, as though trying to remember something from long ago. For awhile he was silent, before saying, "Honestly, I'm not entirely sure why."

A few glances were exchanged around the room. This hadn't been the answer any of them had been hoping for.

"How is that so, Skipper?" questioned the abbot.

"I just..." The otter paused, again seeming to be recalling a distant memory... or perhaps thinking up some plausible excuse. "I... I seem to remember... having a vision... from Martin the Warrior."

More glances were exchanged, this time of surprise and awe.

"From Martin the Warrior?" the abbot repeated as everybeast leaned forward eagerly.

"Yes," nodded Skipper. He kept his eyes from meeting anybeasts', Miru noticed. "It was... I'm not sure when it happened. I just remember being at the feast, enjoying myself, and then... then I walked inside, to see how things were going on in there... and that's when it seemed like I was receiving some kind of message from Martin."

"What kind of message?" Marok wanted to know.

"I don't think I can remember all of it. All I can remember is that the gist of his message was that there was something... evil... outside the abbey. And then the next thing I know, I'm taking the sword of Martin down, walking across the lawns and out the main gates with it. Then I was just prowling around, looking all over for whatever evil this may be."

"And you found it."

This was said by Miru, who was staring at Skipper with intence wide eyes.

"So, that explains it," said Abbot Fir, folding his paws. "You were warned by Martin about this wildcat, I'm sure that's what he meant. And then you went to go and deal with it. I understand now. Though Skipper, you should not have gone out by yourself! At least not without letting somebeast know where you were going."

"I wasn't thinking straight, Father Abbot," the otter said apologetically. He really did look like he was sorry to have caused everybeast such worry. "I suppose my head was still in a haze after Martin spoke to me."

"Its strange," said Sister Grace. "I've often read of the accounts when a beast is contacted by the Warrior, and nothing like this has ever happened before."

"Well, whatever the reason," said Abbot Fir, standing up. "I think we must take Martin's advice and be wary."

"Aye, that we should be, Father Abbot," agreed Streamsleek, also getting to his footpaws. "I'll take charge while you recover, Skip. I'll have some otters patrol the walltops while some of our best trackers can go out and see if they can find any trace of the wildcat, and make certain he doesn't harm anybeast again."

"Yes, that all seems good," Rorac nodded. "And you young uns," he added to Marok, Rocc, and Soilburr. "Make certain to stay inside the abbey, and help keep everybeast else safe. Especially you, Miru. I don't want to hear about you going anywhere near outside, y'hear me? I couldn't help but notice that wildcat takin' particular interest in you."

"I've no intention of going anywhere, Skip," said Miru, his voice soft and serious. "Now let's get you started on your pancakes, they're starting to cool."

* * *

Summer wore on, and no trace of the mysterious wildcat had been found. The trackers were baffled that such a large, bleeding animal could hide himself so well, but as autumn started to approach, everybeast began to agree that maybe perhaps the so-called phantom had gone.

This suited well with Miru, who had been trying not to have nightmares again over his encounter. He even gladly would have forgotten about the whole incident, if everybeast would stop asking him so many questions about it. At first it was eager youngbeasts who wanted to know what it was like, being chased down by a mad wildcat. Which was absurd, in Miru's opinion. Who would want to know something like that? Thank goodness the attention was divided between him and Marok, Rocc and Soilburr, otherwise the pine marten would've found himself bombarded with questions.

And then there were the sympathetic oldbeasts who seemed to guess he was severely traumatized over the event, and kept on telling him that "it was alright", which irritated him. He just wanted to forget it, couldn't any of them understand that? He wouldn't be able to do that if they stopped reminding him of!

And if that weren't bad enough, the dibbuns started playacting a fight scene with the mouse, Trubb, dressed up as a wildcat. This was disturbing to Miru, but at the same time, he knew they couldn't help it, none of the abbeybeasts could. It wasn't their fault they didn't understand, that they had never had to endure things like he had.

And hopefully they never would.

The only beast who seemed to understand the marten's need to forget was Skipper, who avoided any talk of the incident, though Miru could tell he was growing bored with laying around in the gatehouse all the time.

"Its all just flesh wounds, aren't they?" the otter complained. "Why can't I get up, or at least be moved to the infirmary? It'd be a nice change of scenery instead of this old dust-mine."

"They don't want to take any chances," said Miru, holding out a spoon filled with vegetable soup.

Skipper kept his mouth well away from the spoon so he could continue his tirade. "It ain't right, me lyin' around while we've got walltops to patrol! I oughta be out there, givin' commands an' the like."

"Streamsleek is doing is a wonderful job for you, so you don't have anything to worry about."

"Oh yes, I do! Streamsleek's my second-in-command! He might get a taste for bossin' all the other otters around, and try to usurp my title."

"Now that's silly, there's no other otter than can be as good a Skipper as you. Now drink up your soup, waterdog! Its good for you."

"Haharr, our roles have really reversed, haven't they?" grinned Skipper before finally taking the proffered soup.

"Yes, they have," smiled the pine marten. "You're lying in bed while I'm doing the feeding. Only I think you're a much better patient than I was. At least where the eating is concerned. Only I don't think I complained as much about lying around all day."

"That's 'cause you're a lazy type of creature, little mate!" laughed Skip. "Ah, but I hope Sister Grace lets me up soon. All this layin' around, doing nothin' but eating... by the time autumn starts, I'll have a great big ring of fat around my middle!"

Miru laughed at the thought, feeding the otter some more soup. He didn't think the otter had much to worry about, though, as he was still quite fit-looking, even after staying in bed for so long.

"Mmh, and speaking of eating," Skipper said once he swallowed, "you're lookin' a little thin, lately, mate. You haven't been skipping out on meals, have you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," said Miru, ignoring the fact that the otter had guessed right; that ever since laying eyes on Zurzak had taken away a great deal of his appetite. "Its all this running around doing things for you that's making me lose weight."

"Well, try eating a little more and running around a little less. I wouldn't want you to get stick-thin again like before. You looked terrible."

"Gee, thank you."

"No, I mean it. Over the last season or two you gained weight and looked better, a lot healthier. Now you're lookin'..."

The otter didn't fiinish, and Miru knew why. They were drawing close to the incident with Zurzak. Skipper had guessed the real reason why Miru wasn't eating. The otter reached over and placed a paw over the marten's.

"Ahem, anyway," Skipper continued somewhat awkwardly. "I, uh, wonder when Sister Grace'll let me outta my bandages. I'd love to go for a good swim in the pond before it freezes over!"

Miru managed a smile. "She said she thinks the day after tomorrow would be a good time."

"What? That's way too long, this is getting ridiculous. I'm not _that_ banged up, I've got to get out of here sooner!"

"Its just two more days, Skip. What harm'll that do you? Now finish up your soup."

Skipper knew it had been sometime since he had delivered to Rasouk. That was the real reason why he was so anxious. He wanted to hurry and get some food to the fox before he, Rasouk, got impatient. But then again, he did learn that the fox had been given a rather sizeable bag of leftovers from the feast. So the otter supposed that Rasouk was well-supplied enough to wait for awhile longer before Skip's next visit.

"There we are," said Miru, placing the now-empty bowl back on the tray. "Now I've got to take this all back to the kitchens and clean it all up. You just stay there and rest, okay?"

"Aye, aye, cap'n," grinned Skipper, nestling comfortably on the bed.

The pine marten gathered up the utensil-laden tray and headed towards the gatehouse door.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Miru said as he balanced the tray on one paw in order to use the other to open the door. "You remember that one fox that visited during the feast? He came by earlier while you were sleeping. Said he wanted to see if you were fairing any better, and to return the sack he'd borrowed from the abbey. Apparently he finished all of its contents already. Didn't stay long, though. He said he wanted to keep on the move with a wildcat on the loose. Streamsleek offered him room at the abbey, but he said he preferred living on his own, and that was it. He was off. Bit of a funny creature, that one, but he seems nice enough. Well, I'm off to the kitchen. One thing I'm not liking about being your nursemaid, Skipper, is having to wash every single dish you eat off of. But oh well. See you in a few minutes, Skip. Rest easy."

The marten opened and closed the door, and was gone. He didn't notice once the expression on the otter's face.

There was no way now that he could rest easy.

Skipper knew that was Rasouk's signal to come with more food, it had to be. He was trying to tell the otter that he wanted him to come soon... perhaps tonight! Propping himself up, Skipper found to his relief that he wasn't nearly as sore as the other times he'd tried to get up. He gingerly got out of bed, and was gladdened to find that he could stand. Taking a few experimental steps, he realized he could walk again.

That settled it. He was going to Rasouk's tonight.

* * *

The going wasn't as easy as he had hoped it would be. Weeks of laying around all day and all night had stiffened and softened the otter. There was also the fact that he was still wrapped up in his bandages, but at least they didn't impede his movement that much. And it certainly felt good to be up and about again. Even if it was to appease the appetite of some greedy fox.

Thankfully the going wasn't very difficult, either. After making certain that Miru was asleep on the little truckle bed that one of the otters had brought down from the infirmary, Skipper made his move to exit the gatehouse. Easing out of bed and tippawing over towards the door, the otter took extra special care in opening and closing it without making a sound. Seasons of practice helped him during this moment, though there was always the chance that the pine marten would be awakened by Skipper's hammering heart.

But Miru did not heart Skipper's heart, and the otter was able to leave the gatehouse without incident. After that, it was off to the kitchens to gather up some food like always, pack it up into a haversack, and hurry across the lawns towards the little wall-gate. All the while hoping he wouldn't run into anybeast that was still awake.

Scanning the walltops, the otter saw that there were no sentries posted. On any other day, Skipper would've been furious that Streamsleek had slackened the abbey's security. But tonight, the otter chieftain could have kissed his second-in-command for doing such a thing.

Once he was through the wallgate and made certain it locked behind him, the otter was away into the woods like a shot. Ah, to be out jogging again. It was refreshing after being forced to lay around that dusty gatehouse for countless weeks. Though he still had to keep a careful eye and a keen nose out for anybeast that may be watching him. Especially a wildcat.

_Then again, with the way the moonlight is shining off these bandages, he might see me and think I'm a ghost. He'll probably end up running away from _me.

It took him longer to get there, but Rorac finally found himself at the entrance of the fox's burrow, and with nary a sight or smell of any other creature around. Perfect, things were going smoothly.

Kneeling down carefully, the otter called out softly, "Rasouk?"

For a brief moment, there was no reply.

Then he heard the fox's voice, "Get in."

Skipper complied, slipping into the hole and making his way down through the tunnel. He could see a light at the end of the tunnel. Good, hopefully that meant Rasouk wasn't going to play any more tricks tonight.

The otter reached the end of the tunnel and entered into the room-sized den-

_Whump!_

-something large and heavy jumped on him, forcing him to the ground.

For a split second, the annoyed otter thought Rasouk was doing his tired game of "seeing who it was"... until he realized that the creature on top of him was too big to be Rasouk.

Matter of fact, he suddenly felt as if _two_ creatures were on top of him!

Panicking, the otter tried to fight his attackers off, but his arms, legs and rudder were already seized in vice-like grips, and rope was being coiled around them. Grunting and snarling, Rorac tried to break free, tried to slip out of his restraints, but within a matter of seconds he was tightly bound.

_"Grra-"_ The otter was cut off as a thick cloth was pulled over his mouth, forcing him to breathe through his nose.

Which caused him to take in the scent of a wildcat.

"Rememeber me, waterdog?" A cold, hissing voice sounded in the otter's ear. "That wildcat that you chose to cross swords with? I'm sure you do, I'm not a creature one forgets easily. Ah, I see those scars have healed up. Well, don't try anything now, or I'll re-open them."

His heart hammering, a cold sweat overtaking him, Skipper groaned in confusion, anger, and fear. Why was this happening? What was going on? What-

"Don't try to move, Skip," came the voice of Rasouk. Oddly, the fox's almost-sad voice carried the slightest apologetic tone.

Anger became the primary emotion in the otter, followed closely by confusion. What kind of game was _this?_

But then he heard Rasouk say,

"He knows."

Skipper froze.

What? ...No, no, he couldn't, he... he, Skipper, must have misheard...

"Yes... I know," the wildcat's voice growled softly. "I know everything, Skipper Rorac. I know every single little detail. And I have to say, I am very disgusted. At _you_. Disgusted... and stunned. Very stunned, in fact. It amazes me that it is _you_ whom these... these _Redwallers,_ have deemed a _hero_. Whereas I,_ I_, am labled a monster. A villain. A fiend. A threat. A _monster."_ The wildcat's growl became harsher, and closer to Skipper's ear. "And we both know who the _real_ monster is here, don't we?"

Skipper then felt himself roughly rolled over on his back so that he could see a pair of green slitted eyes blazing down at him.

"Don't we?"

The otter squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head to the side - only for his chin to be seized and forced upwards again.

"Look at me," the wildcat commanded, his voice a snarl. "Open your eyes, _open them!"_

Trembling, feeling tears forming in the corners, Skipper opened his eyes. Those yellow-green eyes were so close he could see the lantern's light reflected in them.

"Now we are going to have ourselves a little discussion," the wildcat whispered. "And I want full cooperation from you, understand? Otherwise things will go quite disastrously for you."

* * *

Three cloaked figured walked through the moonlit Mossflower Woods. They walked in a straight line, one behind the other instead of side by side. The trio created an eerie sight: three wraith-like beings out prowling around in the dead of night. Any observer most likely would have huddled in a secret watching place and waited for them to leave.

A more observant watcher would have noticed that the three wraiths were simply three animals. The first, and the shortest, was easily identified as a fox, draped in a fine reddish cloak. The second creature seemed to be a mustelid of some kind, either an otter or a very tall ferret. He was clad in a patched greenish-brown cloak with the hood pulled over his face far more than the others. The third, and the tallest, was a wildcat, swathed in black.

Although there wasn't anything particularly special about the fox or the wildcat, the creature in the middle moved awkwardly, taking slow, careful steps. This was because Skipper's ankles had been tied so that he could walk, but not run. His tail was also tied to his ankles so that he could not use it at all. His arms were still bound behind his back as well, and his hood was pulled over his face to hide the fact that he was gagged.

Two ropes snaked out from beneath the otter's cloak as well. One of the ropes' end was tied to his ankles, while the other end was held by Rasouk under his own cloak. The second rope was attached to Rorac's wrists with the other end held by Zurzak under his cloak. There was no way for the otter to escape. He could only walk on forward, back towards the abbey, a place he never thought he would loathe to go.

Within less time than Skipper would have liked, the threesome was standing at the edge of the woods, facing the southern wall of Redwall Abbey.

Both Rasouk and Zurzak took careful sniffs and scanned the area before nodding to each other and herding their prisoner right up to the wallgate. Skipper was then seized by his shoulders and whirled around to face the wildcat, whose eyes seemed to glow in the moonlight. He turned away, unable to gaze into those horrible eyes, but Zurzak grabbed his chin and jerked his face forward.

"Now," the wildcat hissed, his rancid breath filling the otter's nostrils. "Let's go over what we have agreed to, eh? First, we are going to untie your paws, and you are going to unlock the gate, just like all those other times you have. And then we will untie your ankles and take off your cloak and gag, and you will go inside. After that, you then go and retrieve the marten whom you've been calling 'Miru'. Remember, his name is not 'Miru', it is Dernwyn. He has been lying to you this whole time, just using you. And then, after you wake him up, you will bring him out here, place him into our care, and you will shut the gate.

"And don't think about doing anything contrary," Zurzak added harshly, bringing his face closer so that their noses touched. "If you think about simply locking us out of the abbey, just remember that you won't be able to keep the Redwallers from hearing our voices. We will scream from dawn until dusk the things that you have done, and there will be no way to silence us, and no way to hide your guilt. Not this time.

"Also, don't try to alert any of your otters of our presence. That will not solve anything, because even you do manage to kill us before we can tell them anything, you will still know that Dernwyn is still within the clutches of a monster. You. He will not be safe with you, you know that. I know you care a great deal for him, so we both know this is for the best. You must do all of this, and do all you can to keep the Redwallers from finding him again. And remember, you must keep your promise with Rasouk here. Unlike me, you can still keep him quiet by throwing him goodies.

"Now... do we have an understanding?"

Skipper swallowed. He didn't want this to be happening. He didn't want to be listening to this. He didn't want to follow any more orders...

...and yet he knew he had no choice.

The otter slowly nodded his head.

In the next few moments, his wrists were untied, and Skipper was unlocking the gate so he could get back inside. His paws were trembling, so it took longer than it normally would. Finally, once the gate opened a little, his ankles and rudder were released from their bonds, and his cloak and gag were removed before he was shoved forward onto the abbey grounds. The otter quickly shut the gate behind him, locking it. He didn't want to take any chances in case the wildcat changed his mind about coming into the abbey himself.

His knees were shaking, his head was aching, his stomach was twisted up in knots far tighter than the ropes that had previously been on his arms. This couldn't be happening, it couldn't be...

Rorac lifted his head to see the gatehouse bathed in moonlight... and saw that there was a light in the window!

Gasping, the terrified otter nearly stumbled back. He hadn't expected anybeast to be awake... was Miru alone in the gatehouse? Were Streamsleek and the abbot with him? Had he alerted them to Skipper's absense? Was...

Not for many seasons had Skipper Rorac shaken so much. He knew he couldn't just stand there, quaking like a leaf in the wind. He had to go in there and face whoever was awake. Without feeling his legs, the otter made his way over to the gatehouse, and carefully opened the door.

To be faced by the wide blue eyes of Miru.

_No, Dernwyn._

The pine marten gasped and hurried forward. "Where _were_ you? I woke up and you weren't there anymore! I nearly went crazy, I had no idea where you were. Where did you go? Don't tell me you had another vision from Martin? Surely he'd speak to somebeast who wasn't in your condition?" Miru paused, looking up at the hollow look in the otter's eyes. "Skip? ...Skip, what is it? Are you okay, are you hurt? Here, sit down."

The marten led his friend over to the bed where he sat him down. Miru sat before the otter, looking him over.

"You don't look like you have any news scars. What is it? Where were you? Aren't you going to answer me?"

Skipper looked down at the younger animal kneeling before him. His chest seemed to burn... his heart seemed to swell...

...How could he _possibly_ go on like this?

"Skip?" Miru said softly, beginning to look afraid. "Skip, what is it? Please, answer me! Tell me, what happened? Please!"

"...I know."

The marten blinked, puzzled. "Wh-what do you mean?" he asked, shaking his head. "What do you know?"

"Your name."

The marten stared. Then he blinked, and said, "W-why of course you know-"

"Dernwyn."

Silence.

Deep silence.

Skinny paws began to shake. "What?"

"Dernwyn. That's your name."

Miru swallowed. He stared, unable to look away from those sad, tortured dark eyes.

"Who... who..."

"The wildcat. Zurzak. I met him tonight."

"...Why? How...?"

"I met him when I was taking some food from the kitchens to a fox's burrow. Zurzak was waiting there with the fox, and he spoke to me. Told me everything. He's waiting outside the abbey right now, waiting for me to take you to him, but I don't want to. I'm not going to."

Dernwyn's... Miru's... heart seemed to freeze and burn at the same time. His whole body trembled like never before. Everything had taken on a surreal feeling. Nothing seemed to be real at the moment.

"Then... then... what are you going to do?" he asked, trying to keep himself as calm as he possibly could.

Skipper stared down at the marten for a moment before saying, "I have to tell you my secret. That's the only way out of this."

Miru blinked again. "What... what secret?"

"The secret I've been keeping from you. The secret I've been keeping from my crew, from the whole abbey, from all of Mossflower. Miru... Dernwyn... Miru... I'm a coward. And a monster. No, don't try to say anything, please, just let me get it all out."

The otter paused, gathering himself.

Miru waited, all the air in his body gathering into his chest and throat.

"I killed somebeast."

The pine marten stared for a moment.

Then he said, with a small, desperate smile, "Oh, Skip, I already know that. I mean, I've heard about all the battles and skirmishes you've been in. Of course you've had to kill a beast or two in self-defense-"

"No," said Skipper, slowly shaking his head. "It wasn't in battle. It wasn't in a skirmish. It wasn't even in self-defense. Miru...

"...I killed... a _child."_


	22. The Secret

**Chapter 22**

It was in the very spring before the autumn which Miru was brought to the abbey when Skipper Rorac met a young squirrel.

The otter had finished patrolling with his crew the area around Camp Moss, and decided to go for a leisurely stroll by himself. Rorac had always been a little more reclusive than the other otters, preferring times of solitude as opposed to the constant barks, singing and wrestling of his crew. Nobeast found fault in that, though, since Rorac had proved time and again to be a competent Skipper. He always managed to make certain that every one of his otters had enough to eat and that all of them could sleep easy during the night and play freely during the day. So none of the crew begrudged him some time to himself.

The otter chieftain trotted along through the verdant Mossflower, reveling in the sight and smell of the fresh spring air and blooming flowers, finding an occasional stream to take a quick swim in. He caught himself a fish or two and roasted them, topping them with some crushed berries he found in a bush earlier.

That was when he realized that he was being watched very intently.

Tensing himself and easing a knife from his belt, Skipper slowly quirked his ears to try and sense where his watcher was looking from. He then leapt to his feet, knife in paw, teeth bared...

...and just barely saw the darting form of a small red squirrel disappear up into a tree.

Slipping the knife back into his belt, the otter walked towards the tree, calling, "Oy, hey there, its alright. I'm sorry I scared you, mate. I couldn't see who you were. You can come on down, I won't hurt you. If you were just hungry I would've shared some of my meal with you."

No answer came. For a moment, Skipper thought that the squirrel might have already bounded away over the tree-boughs...

...except he suddenly saw the squirrel's small form all huddled up on one of the branches, staring down at him with wide brown eyes.

"I see you," the otter grinned.

The squirrel shot out of sight, though Skipper got the impression he was still in the same tree. So he continued to try to get the little mite to come down.

"C'mon, now, little un. I won't hurt you, I promise. I just thought you might be an enemy or somebeast like that. You can never be too careful. But like I said, I'm not going to harm you in any way, I swear. Again, if you wanted a piece of my fish or a bit of my berries, you're more than welcome."

The squirrel did not make a reappearance, and so the otter sighed and went back to his meal.

Which was gone.

"Wha-? Hey!" Furiously, Skipper looked around for any sight of the squirrel. "You little maggot! I said I'd _share_ with you, didn't I? Ahh, I hope your mother finds out about this, an' that she whips your hide! That'll teach you!"

And with that, the otter gathered up his javelin and kicked dirt over the small fire, and made his way back to Camp Moss.

* * *

But that was not the last Skip saw of that squirrel. He could not shake the image of that skinny, scarred little creature, and remembered what he himself had said: "I hope your mother finds out about this!" But what if that squirrel _didn't_ have a mother? Or a father? Was that why he was out all alone, looking underfed and uncared for? That would explain a lot. Curious and concerned, the otter decided to go back to that same place with two large fish and some extra berry sauce. And this time, he did not look around when he felt a pair of eyes staring at him.

"I know you're there," Skipper called over his shoulder as he spread the berry sauce over the fishes' scales. "And I'll bet you're hungry again, too. Well, I'm not turning my back on my meal this time, squirrel. You want some, you'll have to come out and ask for it, y'hear me?"

There was no answer, nor did the squirrel come forward. The otter did notice, however, that one of the bushes shook slightly. There was no wind about, so it stood to reason that it was the squirrel. So Skipper tore off a piece of one of the fish and tossed it over. There came the brief sound of gobbling, and Skipper grinned, tossing another piece into the brush.

This went on for awhile before Skipper finally withheld any more fish, saying, "I have more, and if you want it, you'll have to come forward. I'm not throwing it to you anymore. You'll have to come on out."

A few moments passed, and finally the squirrel pushed his way past the bushes and stood shyly within plain sight.

The squirrel was very young, a lot younger than Skipper had first thought; roughly around eight or nine seasons, and very thin. Too thin; he did not look like the type who ate regularly, or who groomed or bathed regularly, either. His unkempt fur was dusty and dirty, with bits of leaf and twig in his brush, and overgrown in some parts. His only clothing was a faded brown tunic, ripped in many places, revealing a multitude of scars all over his gaunt body.

Skipper was stunned. He had seen beasts like that before, but they were usually a lot older than _that._ No child should ever have to look like that, the otter thought. Little ones needed proper clothes and good food, things which this squirrel obviously had never been given.

"Hello there," Skipper said softly, beginning to stand up - only to sit back down once the squirrel backed away. "Hey, easy there. I'm not gonna hurt you. I keep on telling you that, so please, start believing me. Now," he asked after a moment, "what is your name?"

The squirrel did not answer, but rather eyed the fish longingly. Sighing, the otter tore off a few more bits and tossed them over. The little one eagerly ate the pieces up, licking scales and berry sauce off his paws and whiskers, and waited for more.

"You sure you don't want to sit with me?" Skipper asked smilingly.

The squirrel shook his head, and held out his paw for more food.

"Heh," was all the otter said as he tore more pieces of fish and tossed them all in the squirrel's direction. "Well, I suppose _I_ should start with the introductions then, if ever I want to know your name. My name is Rorac, but you can call me Skipper, or Skip. Whichever one is fine. There, now you know my name, so what's yours?"

Again the squirrel didn't answer. He only held out his paw.

"Are you a mute?" Skipper asked seriously. "Is that why you won't answer me?"

No nod or shake from the squirrel. It was getting a little frustrating, but the otter chieftain decided not to push it anymore. He finished up on both of the fish, and got up to leave. The young squirrel gave one last lick of his paw and darted away, climbing up a tree and looking down at Skip with those overlarge dark eyes.

"I'll be back tomorrow," the otter called up. "I'll have more than just fish, see? I might bring a little cauldron of watershrimp soup. No hotroot sauce, I don't wanna take a chance with you. But remember, its soup, so I won't be able to throw any of it around. You'll have to come over and sit with me if you want any."

When Skipper did bring the soup in a little cauldron, he decided it would be better to take one of the bowls he brought along, fill it with the soup and leave it at the base of the tree where he first saw the squirrel. Sure enough, the squirrel came timorously down from the tree, sniffing curiously at the warm, shrimpy scent.

"Careful, its hot," the otter warned, not wanting the squirrel to get a burnt tongue and never come around again. "Try blowing on it first, that usually helps."

The squirrel, taking up the bowl in two bony paws, carefully blew on it and took one small sip.

"Good, eh?" Skipper said, grinning.

The squirrel smiled back, though it was a small smile. Nevertheless, he drank all the soup up and swallowed up the shrimp with apparent relish, and this time, he did not dart away once he was done. Instead, he laid the bowl back down and climbed up the tree in a much calmer fashion.

_Ah, progress,_ smiled Skipper.

* * *

The days wore on, with Rorac bringing various more meals to the squirrel, who became less and less timorous with him, and even became comfortable with coming within arm's reach of the otter. Though Skipper never made any attempt to touch the squirrel, and had given up on trying to get him to tell him his name. Now he was just focused on finding the squirrel a home to live in, maybe Redwall or a squirrel-tribe somewhere. But first things first: get the squirrel to relax around him.

He was still somewhat skittish around the otter, though he had gotten used to sitting down across from Skipper when he ate. The squirrel still hadn't spoken, communicating only with an occasional nod or shake of the head. Though he never answered Skip's question if he was a mute. The otter figured the squirrel probably wasn't a mute, and just wasn't ready to talk yet.

_Something terrible must've happened to him, if he's in that big of a shock over it,_ Skipper thought to himself, feeling sorry for the small creature. Well, whatever happened, he was going to help the little squirrel out, no matter what his problem was. One thing that Rorac liked more than his solitude was helping others out.

* * *

Spring was on the verge of becoming summer. The weather was becoming hotter, the forest became greener, and Skipper Rorac was certain he himself was on the verge of something: the squirrel, though still silent, approached him now with little to no fear, and behaved quite easily around the big otter. Perhaps today Skipper could propose that the squirrel come with him to Redwall or to a squirrel-tribe so he wouldn't have to be on his own anymore. Hopefully the little mite would agree to it, or at least wouldn't object. Maybe Skip could bring along a Redwaller or two and see if the young squirrel would warm up to them as well.

The otter tramped along through Mossflower with one paw toting a javelin while the other held a haversack slung over his shoulder, following his usual path to the place where he met his little friend... and soon became aware that he was being watched closely.

For a split second, he thought it was the squirrel. But there was something about the gaze on him that made the hairs on his neck prickle. It was like the whole forest was watching him, suddenly. Skipper tensed himself up, tightening his grip on his javelin and readying himself to drop the haversack and pull his knife out. He quirked his ears to try and make out any sounds that would betray how many beasts were surrounding him.

"Don't move one more step, otter."

A weasel suddenly appeared in front of Skipper, as if out of thin air. Impressed by such skill, the otter obeyed the order, sizing the other up. The weasel was fairly tall, and fit-looking, clad in a dark, ragged tunic with a scimitar shoved through his belt.

"Good afternoon," Rorac said calmly, still keeping an eye out for any other beast that might try to take him by surprise.

"You're trespassin' on private land, there, see, waterdog?" the weasel said, arms folded and head tilted back.

Skipper smiled pleasantly. "Pardon me, but my names' not 'waterdog'."

"You're still trespassin', whatever your name is-"

"And how I am doing that?" Skipper interrupted, trying to retain his good humor but unable to keep himself from being irritated. "I've walked along this road plenty of times before, and nobeast was around then to complain."

"Well there is somebeast now," the weasel said, and Skipper suddenly noticed that he was surrounded by a number of weasels, stoats and ferrets, all armed and leering.

"If you've set yourselves up here as a village o' sorts, that's fine with me," said Skipper evenly. "Just let me go my way-"

"I'm afraid we cannot allow you to do that," the weasel said softly, an evil smile spreading across his features.

Skipper suddenly sensed another creature coming up behind him.

The otter whirled around, dropping the haversack and taking his javelin in both paws, stabbing it forward-

-right into the chest of the young squirrel.

Time stopped.

Reason stopped.

Nothing made sense.

What was happening?

This... this couldn't be...

And yet there was no denying that it was not a weasel, or a stoat, or a ferret, that Skipper had just stabbed. It was the very same squirrel that he had been seeing all these weeks, feeding and chatting with, making plans to find him a home...

He heard a gasp, and knew that it was the squirrel's, but it wouldn't fully register in his mind. Nothing did. It couldn't... it couldn't...

The squirrel's dark eyes were big, wide and round. His mouth was hanging open, looking like he was trying to scream. He was staring at Skipper with complete and utter shock. And then his small, thin paws then folded around the pole sticking out his chest, as if trying to pull it out...

...and then he sank, his head falling forward, his whole body crumbling...

Skipper felt the javelin slip from his nerveless paws as it was pulled down by the squirrel, who soon lay face-down on the ground, the spear growing out of his back.

Dead.

He was dead...

_...and I killed him..._

Another sound caught the dazed otter's attention. For a moment, he couldn't recognize what he had just heard... until he heard it again.

A snicker.

Followed by... a _chuckle._

Skipper's eyes followed the sounds of laughter, until he found himself looking at one of the ferrets, a mostly pale-furred creature with one of his dark paws clamped over his mouth. And yet despite this, his laughter could still be heard.

A different chuckle caused Skipper to turn and face the weasel, who was grinning from ear to ear, rocking a little on his footpaws.

A third, fourth, and fifth giggle sounded, and soon it seemed the entire group of vermin was... laughing... _laughing..._ at what they had just saw...

The world turned a deep, hazy red...

* * *

When everything cleared, Skipper found himself laying on the ground, looking up at the sky. The sky was marvelous, a great big blue thing enframed with leafy branches...

He realized he was breathing heavily, that his limbs felt limp, and that his throat felt sore... as if he had been screaming a lot...

Blinking, the otter turned his head to one side... and sat up.

Slowly, he turned his head all around himself, his eyes growing wider and wider.

Scattered all around were the weasels, ferrets and stoats, all bloodied-up and not moving.

They were all dead, each and every one of them.

_...How... how...?_

Trembling, Skipper looked down at himself. He too was covered in blood... particularly his paws... though he didn't have very many cuts or wounds...

The otter stared at his paws, and then at the bodies laying around him. No... no, it... it couldn't... it couldn't... _he_ couldn't...!

_Snap!_

Skipper whipped his head around.

His wide eyes locked with the equally wide eyes of a fox.

The fox gave a start, and for a second, looked like he was going to run away.

But instead, he raised both paws and made a calming gesture.

Skipper made no move to go near the fox, though he was desperate to know just what happened in the last few minutes. Swallowing, he called out, "Did... did you see... wh... what happened here?"

At first the fox made no answer. Then he took a wary step forward.

"Yes. I did," he answered steadily. His paws were still raised.

"What... what happened?" the trembling otter said, his voice becoming a whimper. Tears were beginning to form in the corners of his eyes.

The fox took another cautious step forward. "You... you killed those beasts. All of them. ...Even the squirrel, I saw. I saw it all."

Skipper's shaking doubled, if not tripled. He turned and looked out across the carnage that lay before him...

...and there, undeniably, was the body of his poor squirrel-friend.

The little mite had only started to live! He had only started to trust Skipper...

..._Trust,_ he _trusted_ him...!

A sob escaped the otter, and he leaned forward, arms folded. This couldn't be real, it couldn't be happening, this all had to be a dream!

...And yet he knew it couldn't be a dream. He could feel the blood drying on his paws, the dirt beneath his legs, the soft summer breeze...

It was all real. It was all really happening. ...He had killed a child. A _child._ A child that he had swore to protect, to find a home for, that he...

Skipper wretched, placed both paws on the grass, and vomited.

Once he was finished, the otter turned away from the mess and laid down on his side, feeling like that was all he would ever be able to do-

-except he realized suddenly that the fox was standing over him.

Skipper stared up at him, part of his mind marveling that the fox would actually come right up to him, especially after what he had witnessed the otter do.

But what startled Skipper even more was when the fox knelt down next to him, placing a comforting paw on his shoulder. "Come on, you've got to get up."

The otter stared wordlessly up at the fox.

"C'mon, get up! We've got to start digging."

Digging?

The fox gripped the otter's shoulders and hoisted him up into a sitting position, before pulling him to his footpaws. "C'mon, c'mon! We haven't got all day. Matter of fact, we hardly have any daylight left. Won't be long before the sun starts settin'. Come on, hurry!"

Trapped in the daze he was in, Skipper found himself following the fox's orders, and soon the two were sinking their claws into the dirt, digging nine shallow graves for the fallen beasts. Skipper marveled that there were only eight vermin that he killed after all; it had seemed like more when he first looked over them. As he dug, he noticed the fox look up occasionally and sniff the air carefully, twitching his ears. He would always go right back to digging, though after awhile Skipper realized he was checking to make certain that nobeast was watching them.

A strong feeling of panic overtook the otter, and he began to dig with a frenzy, realizing that he did not want there to be _anybeast_ to catch him in what he was doing. The fox dug with some vigor himself, hauling up dirt with such speed and skill that only a mole could have outmatched him. Skipper noticed later that he, the fox, was also using some of the swords of the vermin, as well as a spear... a spear that could only be Skipper's... the very spear that killed the squirrel...

The otter swallowed and focused on digging.

* * *

The sun had set when the nine graves were dug, and the eight vermin had been rolled or dropped unceremoniously into them, only to have piles of dirt and grass flung on them after their possesions were thrown in with them. The squirrel's body, however, was treated with particular care.

Skipper tenderly cradled his friend's frail dead body, realizing with a saddened grimace how the squirrel was no longer empaled by the javelin. It must have been wrenched out of his body by somebeast during the slaughter... maybe by Skipper himself...

As the otter gingerly laid the squirrel in the best dug grave, the fox silently crept off for a moment, only to return with a small bundle of flowers. Rorac watched as the blossoms were placed over his dead friends' chest, covering the ragged wound. Sniffling, the otter turned away, not wanting to watch the squirrel's frail little body get buried in the dirt.

Minutes later, when the forest had darkened and the western sky was a pale yellow, Skipper felt a paw rest on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw it was the fox.

"Come," was the only word he said before trotting off into the shadows.

The otter stared after him for a moment before looking around the forest again.

All traces of the slaughter were gone, or at least that's how it looked in the dark. Every speck of blood had been wiped away, and they had managed to replace almost all of the grass on each grave. To the casual observer, it was just another part of Mossflower. But Skipper knew better...

Unable to look anymore, the otter turned and raced after the fox, not knowing what else to do.

For a moment, Skipper thought he had lost sight of the fox, until he caught a reddish-orange glint amongst the darkened trees. The otter had traveled through the woods at night before, but they never seemed so... unforgiving. It was like some nighttime monster was lurking about, just out of sight in the shadows, waiting to leap out and seize its prey...

Skipper raced to catch up with the fox, who led him on for a while longer, until they reached a small stream.

"Here, wash yerself," the fox said, dipping his paws into the water and dousing himself.

Skipper followed suit, remembering that he was covered in dirt and blood. He scrubbed himself harshly in the shallows, wishing he had some soap. Fortunately, the dirt and blood began to disappear, though it was still hard to tell for sure in the dark.

"Y'clean?" the fox asked after a few minutes.

"I... I think so," the nervous otter replied; he had scrubbed himself as hard as he could, trying to wash every bit of dirt and blood from his pelt.

"Good. C'mon." And with that, the fox bounded back to the shore and shook himself dry, once again taking off into the blackened forest.

Skipper did the same, stepping back onto dry land and giving himself a good shake before following after. The otter then found himself following the most tangled path he had ever encountered, going one way and then that way, scurrying along another way until they were going along some other way, until finally they were both paused by a leaning tree.

The fox carefully sniffed the air, and then bolted across a small clearing towards a large old oak tree, and promptly disappeared. Skipper blinked, and hurried after, looking around anxiously for the fox.

_"Ssst!"_

The otter looked down and saw what could only be the entrance of a burrow beneath the tree's roots. Wasting no time, Skipper ducked and made his way down a narrow tunnel, until finally he emerged into a room-sized den. For a moment, everything was pitch black, and then there was the sound of tinder hitting flint, and a small light appeared in the form of an old-looking lantern. The otter gazed around; the room was really just a large dug-out hole, with bits of roots hanging from the dirt-walls. Other than the lantern, which the fox was kneeling by, and an odd assortment of rags, there was nothing in the den.

"Sit down," the fox quietly commanded, still kneeling by the lantern.

Skipper obeyed, folding his legs and tail under him.

For a moment, there was silence. Then the fox said, "Well, my name is Rasouk. What's yours'?"

"Skipper. Er, well, that's just my title. My actual name is Rorac, but, mostly beasts just call me Skipper."

"How interesting," the fox, Rasouk, said, though he certainly didn't sound interested. But then he said, "'Title', though? Does that mean that you're a chieftain of some kind?"

"Well, yes. Otter chieftains are traditionally called 'Skipper.'"

"Hm. ...What tribe do you rule over?"

"Er, I don't quite know what you mean by that. I mean, my tribe lives here in Mossflower. We mostly live at a place called Camp Willow, though sometimes we live at a place called Redwall Abbey."

"Redwall Abbey! I'm familar with that place. There are so many legendary tales about that great red sandstone abbey. And you say you live there?"

In the back of his mind, the otter knew how bizarre it was for him to be having a normal-seeming conversation after all that had just transpired; but somehow, it created a good distraction, so he kept at it.

"Well, not right now. My tribe and I are living at Camp Willow right now-"

"But you _do_ live at the abbey from time to time?"

"Well, yes. Yes, I... I do."

The fox nodded silently. Skipper couldn't be sure, but there was something odd about his eyes. "In that case," Rasouk said after a moment, "we can help each other out."

Rorac blinked and tilted his head. "I... I beg your pardon?"

"Oh sorry. _You_ can help _me_ out. I already helped you, didn't I?"

Skipper hunched his shoulders, curling his paws up into fists. "What do you mean?" he asked softly.

"Well! You certainly don't want anybeast to ever find out what it was that you did, did you?" Rasouk said, speaking as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

And yet Skipper knew that this was true. He didn't want anybeast to know. He shook his head slowly.

"And nobeast ever _will_ know, that is, if you're willing to comply to my... _requests._ After all, I'm the only beast who knows what it was that you did."

The otter stared at the fox, suddenly feeling like he'd been slapped in the face and punched in the gut. The fox was trying to blackmail him!

"I could just kill you to keep you silent," Skipper growled after a moment.

"That's right, you could," Rasouk nodded. "But do you really want to? Think about it. Do you _really_ want there to be any more blood on your paws? Do you _really_ want that to be on your conscience, that you killed a beast in order to keep other beasts from finding out how you killed _several_ beasts? And how do you know you'll stop after me? What if you continue to murder senselessly? What if, after killing me, you get a taste for blood? What if you decide you'd like to go out and find some other beast to slay... What if you find yourself killing off your own otters? What if you find yourself killing off oldbeasts and little uns? Do you _really_ want to take that chance? ...Huh? Do you?"

Skipper's throat ran dry. It felt as if his claws were about to pierce his paw-pads. A heavy weight had formed in his chest.

He knew the fox was right. He didn't want there to be any more bloodshed. He didn't want to end any more lives, not even a blackmailers'. He couldn't... he couldn't.

Swallowing as best he could, the otter spoke. "What is it you want?"


	23. A Fox's Tale

**Chapter 23**

Rasouk shifted from one footpaw to the other, huddling his cloak closer to his shivering body. The air was warm, but the fox still felt cold; it was extremely unnerving to be standing alone next to that wildcat. Even after weeks of sharing a den with that creature Rasouk still hadn't got used to him. He had met animals before that could make others fear them by their mere presence, but none of them were quite like Zurzak. There was not one who could sit or stand so astonishingly still, or radiate such... such... _evil._

The wildcat was huge, a towering figure swathed in ragged black, a creature who seemed more like the type of boogeybeast that mothers warned their children about when they were naughty. Like the type of thing that belonged in stories and had no business existing in real life.

Having to be within such a close proximity of this wildcat all this time... standing next to him outside this gate... sitting before him back in the den... it was like something out of a nightmare.

* * *

_Finally making it back to his burrow, Rasouk scurried down the tunnel, opening up his sack and burying his nose in its contents. Ahh, he could smell maple icing, how he loved-_

_A large, clawed paw gripped the back of his neck._

_His tongue shot out, his eyes bulged._

_Before he could try to grapple with his attacker, the fox felt himself forced up against one of the dirt-walls, dropping his bag in the process, scattering scones, tarts and pies all over the floor._

_A deep, menacing voice filled his ears._

_"Don't move, fox. I'm in no mood to be trifled with."_

_With his nose no longer in the sweet-smelling bag, Rasouk caught a wiff of blood... and then the undeniable scent of a wildcat._

_The fox's heart jumped up into his mouth, and his eyes bulged again, even bigger. Despite the larger creature's order to remain still, Rasouk felt himself begin to shake uncontrollably. He squeaked in pain as he felt on of the wildcat's claws pierce through his skin. The menacing voice, which had a slight rasp about it, sounded in his ear again._

_"Now... what do you mean by coming here into my den? Are you with the otters so keen on searching for me?"_

_Trying to steady himself, the fox, half of his face still pressed up against the dirt-wall, managed to croak out, "N-no! No, I'm not wi' 'em, this is my den, I live here, I-!"_

_"Shut up!" hissed the wildcat, giving Rasouk's head a slight jerk. The fox snapped his mouth shut and squeezed his eyes shut, wishing that when he opened them, he would find that this was all just a nightmare._

_Sadly, that was not the case._

_"Now..." the wildcat breathed, running a sharp claw under the quivering fox's chin. "You say you already live here? Well, I only arrived here last night... I suppose I could believe you... except where were you last night, if this is your humble abode?"_

_"I... I was at the abbey." Even as the words left his mouth, Rasouk could have kicked himself. Surely putting himself at the abbey would place him with the otters!_

_However, the wildcat's next question was, "The abbey? What is... an abbey, may I ask? Why were you there? Who else lives there? I have many questions, dear little fox, and I hope you will answer me honestly," he added with a warning tone._

_And with that, Rasouk found himself released from the wildcat's hold. He eased himself away from the wall, shakily wiping dirt from his pelt and turning to see the wildcat seated just before the den's exit, facing the fox. Obviously the wildcat wasn't about to let his prey get away any time soon._

_The wildcat's tone became surprisingly (and disturbingly) soft and gentle when next he spoke. "Come, my good fellow. You have no reason to fear me... yet. Just sit yourself down and answer all of my questions. And like I said, be certain that you are..." (Here the wildcat raised a paw, and flexed his razor-sharp claws.) "...honest. Because I don't like it when other creatures lie."_

_Rasouk swallowed, and couldn't help but feel very certain that he was teetering on the brink of death. Nevertheless, the fox complied to the order and sat himself down, though he glanced sadly at the food he had dropped earlier. Such a delicious fare that he wouldn't be able to enjoy. He wished he could at least gather them back up in the sack first._

_However, he had little time to think about that, for the wildcat was speaking again. _

_"So tell me. What is this... abbey, and why were you there?"_

_Swallowing again, Rasouk explained all that he knew about Redwall, and why he spent last night there. A few times he found himself babbling from nerves, but managed to get himself to the point every time. By the time he was done, the wildcat drummed his claws on the ground. _

_"So this... Redwall place... it seems like quite a place to be. Just a group of peaceful farmers, so to speak, living in a grand old castle, giving help to others in need. There ought to be more places like that. Would certainly make the world a better place. _

_"Oh," he said after a moment of silence. "I suppose you better gather up all this food then, if its from this Redwall place. I would dearly love to try some of it. Its not a very pleasant thing to be living off bark and dew-drops for nearly four seasons."_

_Rasouk scampered around on all fours, hurriedly wiping off dirt from various pieces of food and stuffing them back in the bag. Thankfully none of them were spoiled, or at least not from what he could see in the darkness. He still hadn't been able to light his lantern. _

_Speaking of which..._

_"Erm, if you don't mind, sir-"_

_"Please. Call me Zurzak. But what is your name, my good fox?"_

_"Er, Rasouk, s- er, Zurzak. Erm, but, I was going to ask you, did, er, have you, um, seen a lantern around here?"_

_"As a matter of fact, yes, I have, along with some tinder and flint. I suppose that, as well as all these blankets, were my first clue that somebeast already lived here. I did light it for awhile, but then figured it was safer to keep it dark around here, just in case some intruder walked in."_

_"And right you are- er, were," said Rasouk. "But, would you mind very much if we-"_

_"I like it dark," said the wildcat. "But, I suppose it would be a good thing for me to see who my host is tonight."_

_Within moments, the lantern was found, lit, and the den was filled with a faint golden-ish orange light. _

_And Rasouk got a good look at the creature holding him prisoner._

_Touseled, tawny striped fur. Amber-colored fangs. A huge bulk swathed in ragged black. And two of the creepiest staring green eyes he had ever seen. Firelight danced eerily in those eyes, the pupils mere slits into a cold, dark, empty cave..._

_The fox wished he hadn't asked for a light at all._

_"Now," the wildcat murmured, his sharp teeth becoming more visible. "How about some of that Redwall fare? I have never tasted a morsel from that place."_

_Rasouk made no argument in sharing his food, and allowed Zurzak to choose his own treat from the bag. The wildcat picked a maple-iced plum cake, and ate it in a rather delicate manner. A purr of delight sounded deep in his throat. _

_"Mmm, my, my, my, this _is_ quite a sumptuous morsel. And there was more food like this at this so-called feast yesterday?"_

_"Er - yes. Yes, there was," the fox answered. He hadn't dared to eat a single bite, knowing that the wildcat would continue asking questions. _

_There was a moment of silence - aside from Zurzak quietly consuming his cake - before the wildcat spoke again, wiping crumbs from his lips. _

_"Tell me... are there any otters living at Redwall? Are you... _friendly_ with any of them?"_

_Here Rasouk felt a tremor in his throat. He was now in the most delicate of places. He could lie and say that he knew of no otters at Redwall, and if there were, he wasn't friends with any of them. Except for some reason, this wildcat seemed to give the impression he could smell a liar from a mile away. He might end up forcing the truth out of Rasouk, either by slicing through parts of his flesh with those claws or breaking a few bones._

_"Why aren't you answering my question?" Zurzak asked softly. Dangerously._

_Rasouk swallowed. He better tell the truth. He was too afraid to lie. "Yes. There are otters living at Redwall."_

_The wildcat nodded. "I thought so. After all, just before those otters started attacking me, I could have sworn they were shouting 'Redwall.' So it would stand to reason they reside there as well."_

_Rasouk resisted the temptation to slump his shoulders; he had been right to tell the truth._

_"Now tell me," Zurzak went on. "Are you friendly with any of them?"_

_"Not really," the fox said. _

_Zurzak's face became soft and dangerous again._

_"Really!" Rasouk said. "Honestly, I'm not friendly with any of them! I'm hardly friendly with any of the Redwallers, or any other creature in Mossflower. The only creature I..." The fox stopped himself, but not soon enough._

_"So you are friendly with just one creature?" the wildcat asked quietly. "And would that creature just so happen to be... an otter, by any chance?"_

_Rasouk swallowed, wishing he could sink back into the dirt-wall and escape this intimidating creature. He hated how those eyes just _stared_ at him, hardly blinking, always blazing..._

_"Yes. An otter. But I'm not friendly with him!" the fox quickly added. "No, no, he and I don't really see eye to eye. Matter of fact, I'm always either beating on him or tying him up. Not exactly the friendliest of relationships, eh?"_

_"And yet he came to mind when I asked if you were friendly with the otters. Who is this otter that you speak of, and what exactly is your relationship with him?"_

_Rasouk swallowed again, and found himself blirting out, "And just what business is that of yours'?"_

_The fox, of course, was stunned by his own outburst, and could only stare wide-eyed at Zurzak. The wildcat made no response. He just sat there, his face a complete blank. But Rasouk knew that he had just made an error. A deadly one. Either Zurzak would start with the death threats, or..._

_But instead, the wildcat said in a rather calm, rational voice, "Do you know, I see what you mean."_

_Rasouk blinked. He opened his mouth, but could get no words out._

_"What business _is_ it of mine what your relationship is with this otter, or any other otter, for that matter?"_

_A moment passed._

_And then Rasouk was pinned to the wall, his neck engulfed by a large, clawed paw. His eyes bulged again and his tongue shot out. The world became almost completely black, with that horrible voice growling in his face._

_"I _make_ it my business, fox. Those otters are after me. They are enemies. And I have a tendency to _kill_ my enemies."_

_The paw over Rasouk's neck tightened. The fox gasped and tried to pry it away, but couldn't. _

_"But if you are not an ally of theirs', then I would like to know what is your connection to them. You see, I like to know as much about my enemies as possible. Makes it easier for me to destroy them."_

_Rasouk's neck was finally released, and the fox slumped forward, coughing and gasping for air, one paw holding his incredibly sore throat._

_The wildcat stepped away, and sat back down in his old spot. "Now tell me," he said once Rasouk finished coughing, "what is your connection to the otters? Who is this particular otter you seem close to? And tell me all you know about... Skipper Rorac."_

* * *

There wasn't a day that Rasouk regretted telling Skipper's secret to Zurzak. He often wished that he could have lied and said that Rorac was dead. That would have saved the fox a lot of grief, no doubt. Perhaps Zurzak would have lost interest in Rasouk and gone to find some other creature to help him with his schemes. But at that time, having nearly been choked to death, having that wildcat's face so close to his, made the fox nerveless and spill out that he knew about the Skipper of otters.

Over the weeks, Rasouk managed to convince himself that there was nothing else that he could have done. He certainly didn't want to die, and Zurzak had reassured him that, if Skipper went along with their plans, the otter would still be forced to continue his agreement with the fox. So in some ways, it was all working out...

Except for that marten.

Rasouk shifted uncomfortably again. True, he didn't know a thing about the youngbeast aside from his name (though judging by the fact that he had two names, Rasouk really didn't really even know that), but even he thought it was cruel to lure the young marten into Zurzak's clutches. He wouldn't wish that on anybeast, not even...

...well, maybe there _were_ a few beasts that Rasouk would sick Zurzak on, but they were all beasts who _deserved_ it. They were all the animals who mistreated Rasouk throughout his life. The ones who mocked him, jeered at him, threw stones at him, locked him cages and poked spears at him...

For as long as he could remember, there were always creatures like that. His earliest memories were of him being attacked by a gang of vermin bullies, who bite and kicked him all they liked. He ran back to the tent where his mother was, and she would comfort him, like always, about how things would be better when his father came back.

* * *

_Once your dada comes back, everything will be so much nicer. We'll have somebeast to protect us, to look out for us. He'll come back and take care of us Rassy, you'll see._

_When's ee gonna come back, mama?_

_Soon, my son. Soon..._

* * *

But Rasouk's father never did come back.

The young fox would wait every day for a tall, handsome, strong-looking male fox to come strutting through the horde that he and his mother lived in, announce himself as Rasouk's father and take them away to live in some grand castle (Rasouk had never seen a castle before, but he had heard about them, and they seemed a nice place to live), where no creature could ever hurt him, or his mother, again.

But as the seasons passed on, and when Rasouk's mother passed on, the young fox's heart grew bitter. It wasn't fair how things turned out. It wasn't how things should have turned out. And yet that's how they were. Young Rasouk found himself an orphan in a horde, with nobeast to call friend or family. He had only enemies in that place, enemies who made him their slave and punching bag.

Eventually Rasouk realized that he could just run away, and run away he did. But not before he learned a thing or two about covering one's tracks, for he knew the penalty for deserters. For the first few seasons, the young fox was terrified that he would run into soldiers from the horde looking for him. Day by day he'd always take a quick glance over his shoulder to make certain he wasn't being followed. Night by night he would barely sleep, for fear that somebeast would creep up on him.

It was a long time before Rasouk would get a full night's sleep, but he would always look over his shoulder.

For awhile the young fox remained on his own, but then he tried joining a different gang or two, hoping he could make friends with somebeast. Sadly, it was not to be. Any vermin gang saw him as the beasts of his horde did: a potential slave or somebeast they could practice beating on. Rasouk was strong, but not strong enough to ward off some of his foes, and finally the fox realized he was much better off on his own.

He did end up at Redwall Abbey after some seasons had passed, but even that didn't go over too well. He had heard many wonderful things about the abbey from all over Mossflower, and wanted to go and see if it were true. Indeed, the food was just as marvelous as it was described, and the building itself was magnificent. But they expected him to clean and work, a thing which all those vermin gangs had expected of him. It was too much for the fox. He was fed up with having to put up with other beasts' demands, and once again set out on his own.

But every time, Rasouk would have to admit after awhile that he would get lonely. It was nice to have somebeast around to talk to, but rarely there was anybeast worth having around.

And then he met Skipper.

Or rather, he _saw_ Skipper. It was a lovely warm spring day, and Rasouk was out foraging like always, when he heard the sound of a beast walking along.

Quickly hiding himself, the fox watched as an otter came into view. The otter was tall, handsome and strong-looking, and he carried a javelin and a knife in his belt.

He also carried two very large fish slung over his shoulder.

Feeling his mouth water, Rasouk wondered what the chances were if he snuck up behing the otter, knocked him out with a rock and stole his food away?

To his surprise, however, the otter knelt down and began building himself a small fire with various twigs and tinder and flint.

_I wonder if he has any extra,_ the fox mused to himself. He still had some tinder and flint back in the burrow he found. It was a rather ideal burrow, barely visible and hidden in one of the more remote parts of Mossflower. It was there that he decided to set up a more or less permanent residence, and hid an assortment of things he had acquired over the seasons there, such as a lantern and old rags that served as blankets.

"I know you're there."

Rasouk gave a start. The otter had seen him!

"And I'll bet you're hungry again, too."

The fox furrowed his brow. Hungry_ again?_

"Well, I'm not turning my back on my meal this time, squirrel."

Ah. The otter didn't know that Rasouk was there after all.

"You want some, you'll have to come out and ask for it, y'hear me?"

Rasouk began to glance around, trying to see if there really was a squirrel in the area. He wasn't about to give up his hiding place.

Suddenly he saw the otter do something odd: he tore off a piece of one of the fishes and tossed it over into a bush almost on the other side of Rasouk. Next came what could only be the sound of gobbling, and the otter was tossing even more pieces into the bush.

Rasouk watched the whole process, feeling a little envious that some invisible squirrel was getting fed for no work. Just as he was beginning to tire of watching and considered skulking away to find himself something else to eat, he heard the otter call out, "I have more, and if you want it, you'll have to come forward. I'm not throwing it to you anymore. You'll have to come on out."

Suddenly curious to see just who this beast was that was getting a free meal, Rasouk focused his attention on the bush, out of which came a young squirrel.

A squirrel that... oddly reminded the fox of himself. A little ragamuffin, about eight or nine seasons old, and very skinny. His fur was very grimy, and his clothes were faded and tattered. He was also covered scars as well.

"Hello there," the otter said gently. He began to stand up, but sat back down as the squirrel started to back away. "Hey, easy there. I'm not gonna hurt you. I keep on telling you that, so please, start believing me."

Rasouk's interest in the scene began to grow.

"Now," went on the otter, "what is your name?"

The squirrel didn't answer, although he certainly did eye the fish. The otter noticed, and, giving a sigh, tore off more bits and tossed them over. After the squirrel ate them all, the handsome otter gave a smile.

"You sure you don't want to sit with me?"

The squirrel just shook his head, and greedily held out his paw for more. The otter complied to the smaller creature's silent demand, and did it rather cheerfully, Rasouk noticed. He had never seen anybeast dominate an animal larger than they.

"Well," the otter said. "I suppose _I_ should start with the introductions then, if ever I want to know your name. My name is Rorac, but you can call me Skipper, or Skip. Whichever one is fine. There, now you know my name, so what's yours?"

But the squirrel wasn't interested in giving out names. He only held out his paw.

"Are you a mute?" the otter, Skipper, asked, his brow giving a slight furrow. "Is that why you won't answer me?"

The squirrel just continued to hold out his paw. Rasouk expected the otter to lose his temper... except he didn't. He just finished up on picking the two fishes and tossing their bits to the squirrel. When he was done, Skipper got up to leave.

The squirrel, licking his paws, darted up a nearby tree, and rested on one of the boughs, looking down at the otter.

"I'll be back tomorrow," Skipper called up. "I'll have more than just fish, see? I might bring a little cauldron of watershrimp soup. No hotroot sauce, I don't wanna take a chance with you. But remember, its soup, so I won't be able to throw any of it around. You'll have to come over and sit with me if you want any."

And with that, the otter left, and the squirrel disappeared from sight. Rasouk, however, continued to sit. He was, to say the least, astounded.

That big otter... that great, big, hulking otter had been wrapped around that squirrel's skinny little paw. Throughout that entire encounter, it had been the weak little squirrel who called the shots, not Skipper. It was amazing. All his life, Rasouk had been made to understood that it was the big strong beasts who ran the world. And he had witnessed a weakling give orders without uttering a word, and have them be obeyed.

Either the squirrel was a magician or that otter, Skipper, was just simple-minded. That was the only explanation the fox could come up with.

Rasouk wanted to see more. He decided he would come back the next day and watch, and see how far Skipper would go in pleasing the little squirrel. Who knew, maybe someday, somehow, he could turn it to his own advantage...

* * *

The days went on, and Rasouk continued to watch as Skipper Rorac brought food to the squirrel, all the while trying to get him to relax around the otter. After awhile the squirrel did come within arm's reach of the otter, but he still refused to speak. Skipper seemed to had given up on it, and seemed content with only having one-sided conversations.

And the more he watched them, the more Rasouk came to realize that he hated the squirrel.

He hated him because he was jealous of him. Here he, Rasouk, had been, living off the scraps of the world and just barely getting by, and here this squirrel was, no better than Rasouk, and he was getting free food and being treated as if he were royalty! Why wasn't there somebeast around to give Rasouk free food? Why wasn't there somebeast to offer him safety and kindness? Why wasn't...

The fox then realized something.

He was watching how his life could have been had his father come back.

Rasouk stared, more transfixed than ever. The young ragged squirrel was him, when he was younger, and Skipper... Skipper was his father. Tall, brawny, handsome, all the things the he imagined his father would be.

It was like... like his life, his _true_ life, had been... _stolen_... and given to somebeast else...

The fox glared from his hiding spot at the squirrel. The little mite didn't deserve this, he didn't deserve any of this! It was he, Rasouk, who should be waited on paw and foot by Skipper! He was the one who led the hellish life, why should this squirrel get what he could not?

It was all Rasouk could do to keep himself from hurtling from the bushes and flinging himself upon the squirrel. He knew that if he did, things would go very ill for him. But still, watching those two together made him sick, and he didn't want to look anymore... except he couldn't turn away.

The fox continued to keep watch over the squirrel and otter, envying, hating, and longing...

...until one day, Dame Fortune looked Rasouk's way.

* * *

The weather turned warmer, signaling that summer was on its way. Rasouk trotted towards his usual hiding spot to watch Skipper feed the squirrel... except there was something wrong in the air. There was some presence that didn't seem to belong.

Taking precautions, the fox found himself a quick hiding place, and waited. Then he caught a wiff of something: a weasel. And for some reason, there seemed to be more than one.

Rasouk listened intently, trying to figure out where the weasels were, when all of a sudden, he caught the sound of a familar voice.

Skipper.

For a split second, the fox hesitated. Then he eased himself out from hiding and stealthily made his way towards the sound of the otter's voice. He soon heard another voice as well.

"...still trespassin', whatever your name is-"

"And how am I doing that?" came Skipper's voice. He sounded annoyed. "I've walked along this road plenty of times before, and nobeast was around then to complain."

"Well there is somebeast now."

Rasouk caught sight of a few stoats and ferrets with their backs to him. They were too focused on what was going on in front of them to take notice of the fox, who swiftly hid behind a nearby tree. Skipper's voice could be heard from beyound the stoats and ferrets.

"If you've set yourselves up here as a village o' sorts, that's fine with me. Just let me go my way-"

"I'm afraid we cannot allow you to do that," one of the vermin said softly.

Rasouk eased himself to look around the other side of the tree, saw Skipper surrounded by a group of weasels, stoats and ferret, all with evil-looking grins and very sharp swords.

Skipper, however, was not unnarmed, but still had his knife and javelin with him. The latter of which he used to stab the creature who snuck up behind him...

Except the otter looked shocked and horrified at what he had done.

Rasouk leaned sideways a little further to see who it was that Skipper had stabbed...

...it was the squirrel.

The fox blinked, not quite certain what he was seeing. Did Skipper just... had he just...

The squirrel's skinny paws folded around the javelin, as if he were trying to pull it out, only he sank, his thin body curling limply at he fell to the ground. Skipper lost his grip on the javelin so that it fell down along with the squirrel.

Rasouk could only stare, stunned. What had he just seen? It couldn't possibly...

Just then a snicker brought the fox back to his senses. He looked around, trying to see who was the sick beast that dared think the death of a child funny. It soon didn't matter, though, for all the vermin began to laugh.

Their laughter was grating, hideous, and Rasouk felt a surge of loathing towards them...

...and then he saw Skipper. Poor, confused-looking Skipper. He only stood there, his paws hanging limply by his sides, staring about himself with sad, hurt, bewildered eyes...

...eyes that began to look angry. More than angry, they began to look _furious,_ enraged... they even began to turn... _red._

What happened next the fox would never forget.

Skipper Rorac drew his knife from his belt, and flung it at one of the vermin, a white ferret with dark paws. The blade sank into his upper chest, and one startled gurgle later, the ferret was on the ground.

The other vermin, their laughter turning into cries of surprise or anger, charged at unarmed Skipper, brandishing their weapons.

But Skipper didn't need a weapon. He dodged their attacks and swung his rudder at them, punching their heads and kicking their stomachs, all the while roaring like a beast possessed. Teeth flew, skulls cracked, limbs broke, blood flowed... Even though it was seven against one, the lone otter clearly had the upper paw.

Two of the vermin, a stoat and a weasel, realized this and tried to make a run for it. Only they just so happened to run past the tree where Rasouk was watching it all.

The fox had his own knife; had it since he left the horde. He pulled it out and, once the weasel started to run by, jumped out and sank the blade deep into the other creature's belly.

The weasel's brown eyes and pink mouth went wide, and fell to the ground when Rasouk yanked his knife back out.

Turning, the fox saw the stoat come charging towards him, brandishing a scimitar. Rasouk barely dodged out of the way, and the stoat's blade struck the tree, and stuck. As the panicked stoat tried to yank his weapon out, the fox seized him from behind and slit his throat.

The stoat stumbled away, clutching at his wound before he too lay lifeless on the ground.

Rasouk stood over the fallen duo, breathing deeply. It felt good to kill them. It was like getting back at all those who abused him in his life...

Suddenly he realized that the screams had died down.

Cautiously, the fox stepped around the tree... to behold a scene of carnage.

The remaining five vermin lay dead, covered in blood and surrounding Skipper Rorac.

For a moment, Rasouk wondered if Skipper was dead as well... until he realized that the otter's chest was moving up and down. He watched as Skipper began to sit up, and saw that the otter's eyes had returned to their normal brown. Skipper looked about himself, his face once again sad and confused, and horrified.

As the fox watched, he found himself recalling hearing a tale about a rage called bloodwrath, were the victim's eyes turned red and they became like a thunderstorm until all their enemies were dead. Usually they didn't remember what they had done once it was all over.

Rasouk was certainly surprised to have seen it actually happen, and to a beast like Skipper of all creatures! Though he certainly had a good reason...

_Snap!_

Rasouk inwardly cursed; he stepped on a twig. But he then found himself looking into the wide eyes of Skip.

For a second, Rasouk thought about running away. There was no telling if and when that bloodwrath would come upon the otter again... except... something made him linger.

And, without fully realizing what he was doing, the fox stepped out fully from behind the tree, raised both paws and made a calming gesture.

The otter remained seated on the ground, and asked in a trembling voice, "Did... did you see... wh... what happened here?"

Rasouk remained silent at first. A idea took form in his mind.

_He calls himself 'Skipper'... and isn't that a title for a chieftain? Surely a chieftain wouldn't want this story to get around?_

He took a wary step forward. "Yes. I did," he answered steadily.

Tears formed in Skipper's eyes. "What... what happened?"

It was seeing those tears that somehow made Rasouk feel stronger. Bolder. And his idea become a plan. He took another, albeit cautious, step forward.

"You... you killed those beasts. All of them," he added, ignoring the fact that he himself had killed two. "...Even the squirrel, I saw. I saw it all."

The otter shook. He shook harder than anybeast Rasouk had ever seen. The fox watched as Skipper looked around him at all the dead bodies laying around. He watched as the otter sobbed when he saw the squirrel's dead body.

Skipper got to his knees and leaned forward, his arms folded beneath him. It was certainly strange to see such a big, powerful animal so broken. But it was an arresting sight at that. The otter sobbed and shook some more... and then he wretched, placing both paws on the ground and vomiting.

Rasouk turned his face away awkwardly, and waited for Skipper to finish. Finally the otter turned away from the mess and laid down on his side, a mere shell of his former self.

In spite it all, Rasouk couldn't help but feel sorry for Skip at this moment. He had always been such a happy creature, now to see him like this... except the fox also knew that things had turned wildly in his favor, and he'd do best to take advantage of it. Especially when there weren't any other beasts around to witness what was happening.

Carefully, the fox stepped up to the otter, who looked up as he approached. Skipper stared up at Rasouk with tear-strained eyes, which widened as the fox knelt down and placed a comforting paw on his shoulder.

"Come on, you've got to get up," Rasouk said in as gentle a voice as he could.

The otter stared wordlessly up at the fox.

"C'mon, get up!" Rasouk said with less patience. "We've got to start digging."

The otter still looked up at him confusedly.

Sighing, Rasouk gripped the otter by the shoulders and hoisted him up into a sitting position, pulling him to his footpaws. "C'mon, c'mon! We haven't got all day. Matter of fact, we hardly have any daylight left. Won't be long before the sun starts settin'. Come on, hurry!"

From there the two started digging nine graves, eight for the vermin and one for the squirrel. Rasouk knew they had to be quick, lest anybeast come by and see what they were doing. He kept a look-out by sniffing the air carefully for any new scent, though it was hard not to smell all that blood. The fox ended up having to rely more on his ears for any approaching footsteps, which, thankfully, never sounded.

At first Skipper moved like a creature in a trance, doing things automatically. But as he took notice of what Rasouk was doing, he began to dig with much more energy. Rasouk could have smirked; so the otter didn't want to face what he did after all. But instead he focused on digging the graves, and ended up having to use some of the swords of the vermin, as well as Skipper's javelin (it had been lying some distance from the squirrel's body; perhaps one of the vermin tried to use it to fend off Skip).

Finally, the graves were dug, all traces of blood were covered up, and the bodies were being placed into the ground. The vermin were either rolled or dropped into their graves with scant ceremony. They hardly deserved any, Rasouk thought.

But the squirrel was given the best dug grave, and was placed tenderly in it by Skipper himself. As the otter knelt by the hole, Rasouk realized that he could give the squirrel a more proper send off by finding him some flowers. Sure, he had hated the squirrel, but that was no way for anybeast to die. Especially one so young.

It wasn't easy finding many flowers, but thankfully there were some nearby, and Rasouk made as bug a bundle of them as he could. Returning to the grave, the fox knelt down and placed the flowers over the dead squirrels' chest. At least it covered the wound.

Rasouk looked up at the sound of a sniffle, and watched as Skipper turned away. Rasouk decided he would bury the squirrel alone; Skip had already helped with covering the other bodies with dirt.

Once the deed was finished, Rasouk, again taking a few careful sniffs to make certain nobeast else was around, went over to wear the otter was doubled over. He placed a paw on the otter's shoulder, and Skipper looked up, his cheek-fur sodden.

"Come," was the only word Rasouk said before trotting off into the shadows.

* * *

Rasouk sighed deeply. What was taking Skipper so long? How hard was it to lead a pine marten across the abbey lawns to a wall-gate? Of course, then again, considering that he was placing the marten into the claws of Zurzak, the otter was probably going to delay things as long as possible.

The fox still wasn't so sure if Zurzak had handled things so well, though. True, Skipper wouldn't want anybeast to know about his secret, but enough to betray the trust of another little mite? Rasouk had the suspicion that Skipper and the marten had formed a bond similar to what Skip had with the squirrel, and that might make things a little more difficult.

He glanced sideways at Zurzak. The wildcat still hadn't moved. It was impossible to tell if he was becoming impatient or not. The fox had no idea just why this pine marten was so special to him, though he didn't really care to know. All he wanted was for things to be back to normal: with Zurzak gone, Skipper still bringing him, Rasouk, food, and Rasouk being the one in charge.

Suddenly he saw a movement in the corner of his eye.

Whipping his head around, the fox saw a dark figure come walking towards them along the wall.

"Zurzak," Rasouk whispered. "Somebeasts' coming."

At first it was hard to tell who or what it was... then it looked like an otter...

...And then it looked like Skip.

The otter had taken off his bandages so that his scars were visible. He walked in a rather easy manner, and had a strangely calm look on his face.

In a flash Zurzak speed past Rasouk and grabbed Rorac by the neck.

"Where is he?" the wildcat snarled. "Where is Dernwyn? Answer me!" he almost shouted, shaking the otter, who had stumbled to his knees.

Skipper didn't even try to pry himself free, though. He merely smiled up at Zurzak and replied in a choked voice, "I told him."

Rasouk felt the bottom of his stomach drop.

"I told him," Skipper repeated. "Everything. I told him everything. He knows all about you and your plans and he knows all about me. And soon the entire abbey will too. I declared myself outcast. So now it doesn't matter what you - or _you_," he said to Rasouk, who cringed, "do to me."

The otter looked back up at Zurzak and said, "You'll never get him now."

For a moment, all was still. And the most still of all was Zurzak.

Then Rasouk found himself ensnared by the wildcat's other paw, and both he and Skip were pinned up against the abbey wall. The paws holding their necks trembled with barely contained anger.

"You..."

Rasouk gagged and tried desperately to loosen the grip around his neck. Skipper simply hung there, ready to accept whatever happened.

_"You..._ you're both _useless!_ You...! ...I ought to cut both your bellies open and feed each other your intestines!"

Rasouk gave a choked squeal. Rorac merely stared.

Then Zurzak pulled back the arm that held the otter and slammed him up against the wall.

_"Ugh!"_ Skipper slid to ground.

Rasouk's neck was released, and the fox doubled over, coughing, gasping and sobbing for breath. He tried to stumble away, but was seized again by the wildcat.

"See if he's dead," Zurzak ordered before shoving Rasouk down next to Skipper.

Obediently, Rasouk placed one paw against the otter's neck, and found a pulse. "He's alive," he rasped.

The wildcat blew out his nose. "Pick him up. And carry him back to your den. I need to think things over."

Rasouk stared up at Zurzak. "_Me_ carry _him?"_

The wildcat loomed over the fox. "I'm not finished with you, fox. I don't want you running away just yet. Now carry him, because otherwise you'll be of no use to me."

Knowing that he had no other choice, Rasouk looped one of Rorac's arms around his neck and dragged him off after Zurzak.

Would this nightmare never end?

* * *

Miru was still seated before the bed in the gatehouse. He hadn't moved at all; not when Skipper poured out his terrible secret, not when Skipper revealed his connection to the fox, Rasouk, and not when the otter said that he was bestowing upon himself the title of outcast, that he was going to leave the abbey forever, and that he depended on Miru for telling the Redwallers everything.

"And make certain that you don't leave the abbey, little mate. That wildcat is still out there, and I'm sure he'll stop at nothing to try to get you. ...I'm so sorry, Miru, or Dernwyn. I'm so sorry... I don't want to never see you again, but I have to. For both our sakes. For everybeasts' sake. I'm so sorry, and please remember... that in spite of everything... you were a brother to me. And you always will be. I love you."

And then he was gone.

The pine marten remained sitting, as still as a statue. Not looking at anything, not listening to anything. It was hard to tell how long he stayed like that. It could have been hours... or days... or just minutes.

Then his paws began to shake. His shoulders began to quiver. His head folded downwards. His eyes began to water. A sob escaped his lips, followed by a second one. He began to take shallow breaths.

Then he crawled over to a large empty pot, and vomited. After he was finished, the young marten laid himself out on the floor, trembling and crying, hardly able to comprehend just what was going on...

But then something happened.

Something in the room changed.

It was as if... as if something warm and soothing had entered the gatehouse.

Miru's sobs slowly died down, and his shaking settled. He blinked away his tears and wiped his eyes, and looked up.

Standing before him was a mouse. Not one of the abbeybeasts, he wasn't wearing a habit. And yet there was something familar about him... his face was kind and handsome, and he was clad in armor...

Miru stared. "Martin?" he whispered.

The mouse's smile became wider, and he knelt down, wiping away the rest of the pine marten's tears. Miru's eyes flickered at the touch. It was both strange and soothing.

The armored mouse held Miru's gaze for a bit longer, before looking behind him with a gesture.

Miru looked past the mouse... and sat up straighter.

Kirin.

Kirin was here... right here... in the gate house...

New tears streamed down the young marten's cheeks, only to be wiped away by Kirin's gentle paw.

"Don't cry, little brother. You need to be strong."

Dernywn reached up a pair of shaking paws to feel his brothers'. "Kirin... you're _here._"

Kirin's smile widened. "I was always here, brother."

Dernwyn stared wonderingly into his brother's handsome face, with its curled whiskers and creamy ears and dazzling dark blue eyes...

"He needs you, little brother."

The young marten blinked.

"He needs you. Just as much as you need him."

"Kirin..."

"You have to go on living. Please, don't shut out life again. Don't be afraid to love. Go after him. Help him. Save him. You can do it. You're stronger than you know. And remember... I'll always be with you.

"Always."

Dernwyn gasped. He pawed the air. Kirin was gone.

The gatehouse was empty.

The pine marten breathed deeply, his heart hammering. For awhile all he could do was sit.

Then he got up.

His senses started to return.

Skipper... he had to find Skipper!

Miru hurtled from the gatehouse, snatching up a lantern in the process-

-and nearly knocked over Marok, who was toting the sword of Martin.

"Wha-?" said Miru, taking notice of Rocc and Soilburr behind the mouse.

Marok, however, looked at the marten with steady eyes. "We know. Martin told us everything. And we're going with you to find Skip."


	24. Dread

**Chapter 24**

_Skipper... he had to find Skipper!_

_Miru hurtled from the gatehouse, snatching up a lantern in the process-_

_-and nearly knocked over Marok, who was toting the sword of Martin._

_"Wha-?" said Miru, taking notice of Rocc and Soilburr behind the mouse._

_Marok, however, looked at the marten with steady eyes. "We know. Martin told us everything. And we're going with you to find Skip."_

"You wha...?" was all the pine marten could get out.

"We're going with you to find Skip," Marok repeated, beginning to look impatient.

"But I..." Miru looked from the mouse to the squirrel and mole behind him, each holding a stone-filled sling. An gruesome picture of these three beasts meeting their end at the claws of Zurzak came into his mind. "It's too dangerous."

"And what do _you_ plan on doing?" challenged Rocc. "Wandering out into Mossflower in the dead of night with no weapon and only a lantern?"

"Hurr, zurr marthen," said Soilburr, stroking his digging claws. "You'm goin' ee bee needin' some 'elp out'n ee woods. 'Specially with ee gurt woildcat wanderin' around!"

Miru shook his head. Despite his shock and his head being in a whirlwind at the events happening, the pine marten was touched by his friends' loyalty. Funny, though... before, he never thought of them as friends... of course, Marok did say they were coming to find Skip, so perhaps it was the otter that they considered their friend, and not Miru.

Marok, however, was in no mood to waste time talking. He took a firm hold of the marten's skinny arm, and looked him straight in the eye. "Look, Miru. Either you let us come with you so we can watch your back while we all go look for Skip, or we can look for Skip ourselves and leave you all alone. Like it or not, we're going. So what's it gonna be, and don't waste time thinking. Every minute counts!"

The pine marten stared open-mouthed at Marok. He glanced at Soilburr, then at Rocc. Then he looked back at Marok and nodded.

Soilburr grinned. "Hurr, then let's ee be goin'! Burr arr!"

Marok turned and raced towards the main gates, when suddenly Rocc stopped him.

"Wait! How will we lock the gates behind us? They can only be locked from the inside. We can't leave with the gates wide open!"

"No problem," said Soilburr, rolling up the sleeves on his habit and tucking his sling into his habit-cord. The young mole strode up the great big doors, knelt down, and began digging.

Miru had never seen a mole dig before. He was amazed at how fast such a chubby little creature could move. Within minutes Soilburr sank down into the ground, disappeared, and then resurfaced, tugging his nose at his friends.

"Ee tunnel is all ready, maisters! Burr arr!" the young mole said as he pulled himself out and gestured grandly at his handiwork.

Marok readily jumped down the hole, followed awkwardly by Miru. He got down on his paws and knees before lowering his legs into the tunnel and jumping in, taking the lantern with him. Crouching down, the pine marten found himself briefly immersed in an enclosed world of dirt and roots as he clumsily crawled through with one paw holding up his lantern. Thankfully he did not have to be in that position for long, for soon he was being pulled back up into the world above by Marok. Heart pounding and wiping dirt off his fur and habit, Miru turned and watched as the mouse helped up Rocc as well.

"That was a good idea, Soil," Marok called down the tunnel. "Now we don't have to worry about locking the gates."

"But what about the tunnel?" Rocc wondered aloud. "Somebeast could just come along and get inside through it."

While the others spoke, Miru turned and looked out in the pitch black of Mossflower woods. Even though his lantern was thankfully still burning, it was a small comfort as he saw the endless void surrounding them. He gulped, realizing that Zurzak could be watching them this very minute...

"Hurr, you'm don't be a-worryin', zurr squirrel. Oi filled ee tunnel backen up w'ee dirt."

"Alright, good. But which way do we go? Did Martin say anything else to any of you? About where Skip is?"

Miru suddenly felt as if he had been slapped. It was true, he didn't know where Skipper was. He didn't have the foggiest idea, nor did he know how to track or-

"No problem," said Marok.

Miru turned and watched as the young mouse set the sword of Martin down on a nearby rock.

"We'll just spin the blade and see where it points. They did that sometimes, the warriors in past days. It always seemed to work."

"I sure hope it works this time," said Rocc nervously.

Miru stared. Leaving it all up to where a sword was pointing?

"What good'll _that_ do?" the pine marten burst out. A feeling of hysteria was beginning to rise in his chest.

"It'll be Martin's way of showing us where Skip is," Marok explained as he gave the sword a firm spin, stepping back as he did.

"He could've just told us in our dreams," Miru couldn't help but say aloud. Almost immediately he felt worried about saying that; Redwallers held their warrior in the highest esteem.

Thankfully, the other three didn't seem offended.

"Well," said Rocc, shrugging. "Martin does work funny, sometimes. There are times whenever I've read the old stories of Matthias and Dannflor and wondered why on earth he didn't just come out and tell them point blank what they were supposed to do."

"Hurr, but ee'm wanted 'em to work for what they'm wanted."

"That's right," said Marok. "Though I think relying on a spinning sword is a much better way than having to decypher riddle after riddle."

Miru wasn't as familar with the abbey's warriors, and so couldn't quite follow along with the others were saying. Although he was amazed at how long the sword was able to keep on spinning this whole time.

_Maybe it's Martin's way of showing us that he really is helping us..._

Before long, the blade began to slow down until it stopped, its tip pointing south.

"Then that's where we're going," said Marok, picking the weapon back up.

The mouse headed south without a backward glance, Rocc and Soilburr striding along after him.

Miru paused, but only for a second. He hurried after his comrades, not knowing that his fears had been true:

Zurzak was indeed watching them at that very moment.

* * *

Rasouk sat huddled in the midst of his den, facing the still-unconscious form of Skipper, his back towards the den's entrance. The fox was just barely getting his normal composure back, and that was only thanks to the absence of Zurzak. The wildcat had ordered Rasouk to keep an eye on Rorac while he, Zurzak, went outside to "think things over."

The fox was only too glad to be rid of the wildcat, if only for a while. Oh, what a rotten bust-up this whole thing was! And it was all that cat's fault, too! He never should have handled the situation the way he did. Of course Skipper wouldn't have given the little marten over! No doubt the little runt reminded the otter too much of that poor squirrel he murdered. No way would he ever let anything happen to his new "little friend."

Rasouk wished that he had had more guts to voice these doubts to Zurzak in the first place, but... well, it was hard to be brave when that wildcat was around.

The fox blew out his nose bad-temperedly. Either way, his life was ruined. Before that cat came into his life, everything was perfect. Rasouk had the world at his claw-tips. He got to have his meals served to him as if he were a king lounging in a throne. He got to give a creature larger than he a beating and never had to worry about Skipper fighting back. He practically ruled Mossflower while using Rorac as his mask. Finally, for once, the fox had been on top. He was the one who called all the shots. And now it was all gone.

Thanks to Zurzak, Skipper had now revealed his secret to the Redwallers, he made himself an outcast, and no longer cared what was done to him.

_He might even get you back for all stunts you pulled on him,_ a nasty voice inside Rasouk's head said, sending a slight shiver down the fox's spine. That wasn't a very pleasant thought at all. Before, the otter was consumed with grief and guilt, and so therefore thought he deserved the bad treatment he was receiving.

Now, though...

Rasouk looked again at Skipper's unmoving form. On second thought, the otter did say before he didn't care what was done to him now. He didn't say anything about getting his own back. And what was more, Skipper certainly didn't say he was no longer guilt-ridden. The mere fact that he had placed the title of outcast on himself showed he still thought himself guilty.

Perhaps... perhaps Rasouk could still take control of his puppet... but how? And what for? There was no way he was getting Redwall fare anymore...

_We could go away_, the voice in his head suddenly said.

Rasouk slowly blinked. Yes... that sounded like a good idea. The two of them could leave Mossflower, find land where nobeast knew them, set up new identities... they could even find some farmland. Rorac could do all the work while Rasouk... well, no doubt this time around Rasouk would have to pull some of his own weight. But no matter, he wouldn't mind some foraging and finding fresh water. Yes, he could do that while Rorac did all the rest.

And, the fox realized, if they just so happened to come upon another settlement like Redwall, Rasouk could be the one to tell their stories, just so Rorac wouldn't have to lie anymore. Rasouk knew that the otter just hated telling lies, but this time around, he wouldn't be, because Rasouk would be doing it for him!

Growing excited at the possibilities, the fox imagined what his future life could be like: just him and Rorac, a master with his slave, a son who found a replacement for his no-show father. Just them and the open road. No more crazy wildcats, no more goody-goody woodlanders, no more brain-dead vermin bands...

Rasouk could still have the life he deserved. He still could. All he would need to do is do a little convincing when Skipper woke up...

...which seemed to be right now.

* * *

"So... what exactly did Martin tell you all?" Miru asked softly as the four youngbeasts trekked down the dirt path that led south.

They were all huddled closely together, partly because they only had one lantern with them, and also because they were all secretly terrified of any night-time monsters that might come springing out at them. The sky was clear above them, a sea of deep, dark blue speckled with stars. All around them were thousands of trees, tipped in black and seeming to be reaching out at the small group.

The pine marten could remember nights like these before he came to Redwall. Only then, the weather was colder, and he was alone. Yet both events were the same in that he was constantly afraid to find Zurzak if ever he glanced over his shoulder. He wished he still had his dagger, but he lost it somewhere in the woods while wandering about, looking for either some berries to eat or a new burrow to sleep in.

"You mean about Skip?" Marok quietly answered. They all spoke in low tones, as if the forest demanded it. "He told us everything. Or rather he showed us everything. About how he accidentally killed that squirrel, and how that fox has been blackmailing him about it. Now Skip is out here, somewhere, in the clutches of that wildcat."

"But... how did he tell you?" the pine marten wondered. Perhaps he should have asked that question sooner, but things had been such a whirlwind.

"Like how he always tells abbeybeasts something," explained Rocc. "In our dreams. We all had the same dream of how Skip met the one squirrel, and how..." The squirrel trailed off; obviously the fact that he had seen Skipper killing a creature as the same species as he had rather shaken him. "...Well, he just showed us everything. And he told us about how you were going to go searching for Skip, and so we all got up, and got our weapons ready, and went out to meet you."

Miru vaguely recalled that indeed was how Martin the Warrior warned Redwallers of oncoming danger. Although now he was beginning to wish that they had brought Skipper's crew with them. Surely Martin would have seen that four youngbeasts like them couldn't stand a chance against Zurzak? Although there was something else bothering the young marten.

"Did he... did Martin tell you all anything else?"

"No," said Marok.

"No," said Rocc.

"Hurr, baint recallin' any other details Marthin would've tol' us," said Soilburr.

So Martin hadn't told them about Miru's real past. He wondered why?

"I wonder why Martin didn't tell us all about Skipper's secret before," the marten said. "It would have saved us all a lot of trouble."

"My guess is that Skipper didn't want anybeast to know," said Marok. "And that because of that, Martin was considerate not to tell anybeast."

"What's that got to do with it?" Miru wanted to know.

"Hurr, Oi be a-supposin' that it wasn't Marthin's secret to be a-tellin', zurr marthen. Marthin's no tattlebeast, he is."

Somehow that made sense. It was only when Skipper announced that he wanted the abbeybeasts to know about his secret that Martin told any of them. But he didn't tell them Miru's secret because the pine marten did not want the abbeybeasts to know about it yet.

"But I wonder," said Rocc, "is how this wildcat figures into all this. That was the one part that didn't quite make sense to me. What would the wildcat want with Skip, anyway?"

It looked like Miru was going to have to tell them the truth after all.

"I don't know," said Marok.

"Hurr, Oi supposin' we'll foind out sooner or later," said Soilburr.

They walked on a few more steps. Miru swallowed. He might as well.

"He tried to use Skip to get to me."

The other three stopped and stared at the pine marten. "What?"

Miru swallowed again. "My real name's not Miru. It's Dernwyn. I wasn't a farmer's son, I'm the son of a king. Or at least I was, but my father was - betrayed, by his advisor. And that was Zurzak, the wildcat that's got Skip. He tried to use Skip to get to me."

The mouse, squirrel and mole stared bug-eyed at the marten. This night was certainly turning out to be full of surprises.

* * *

Skipper groaned. His head was throbbing, and his joints felt stiff as he raised himself up to his knees.

He reached up to feel the back of his head when his paw was stopped by another.

"I wouldn't touch that, if I were you."

Recognizing the voice as Rasouk's, Skip wrenched his paw away and stumbled away from the source of the voice.

"There's a pretty big bump on your noggin, Skip. It's best if you left it alone."

The otter growled in response, but knew the fox was right. He lowered himself back to the ground, waiting for the throbbing to subside. "Wh... where are we?"

"Back in the burrow, Skip."

Rorac almost snorted. Of course, back in that wretched hole in the ground. With Rasouk, no less! Well, he'd just wait for his head to feel better before setting out.

"In case you're wondering," Rasouk said, "Zurzak is just outside. Said he need to think. Must be thinking up a new plan or something."

Again the otter almost snorted. "Heh, he won't succeed. There's no way Miru will leave the abbey. And everybeast will know everything by now, so if he tries anything, that cat'll wind up looking like a pincushion if he even goes near the abbey!"

"Now that's something I'd like to see," the fox chuckled.

"Don't start laughing, fox," Rorac said, still laying on the ground. "With the Redwallers knowing my secret, there's no way you can blackmail me anymore."

"Don't be too sure."

Rorac rolled his head over to look at Rasouk.

"I mean, after all, where will you go now? I mean, you certainly can't stay in Mossflower anymore."

The otter blew out his nose bad-temperedly. "I don't know, but it'll be somewhere, and someplace where you can't follow me!"

"And what will you tell the creatures that you'll meet in this new place you'll be going? About yourself, I mean. Surely you don't want to tell them what you've done? Chances are they might not be so willing to let you stay. The same can be said for any other place you may end up going."

Skipper didn't respond. He realized he hadn't thought of that.

"The only way you'd be able to stay is if you lied to them. But I doubt you'd want to do that, dear Skipper. No, no, no, you never liked lying, did you?"

The otter's paws began to shake.

"Which would mean that you'd have to isolate yourself. Find some little corner of the world where you can live out the rest of your days in solitude... all alone... my, how boring that would get. All by yourself with nobeast to talk to. Nobeast to share with, nobeast to laugh with, nobeast to huddle up with when the nights are cold. That would be one lonely life, Skipper Rorac."

Rorac swallowed. Even though he had always been a beast who cherished his time alone, he also always cherished the warmth and laughter he shared with his friends and comrades. It was their smiles that called him away from his solitude, and now... now he would have to live without them forever...

"Unless," Rasouks' voice broke in. "You had somebeast with you. Somebeast who knew your secret, but also was willing to keep you around as company. Somebeast who was willing to do half of the foraging. Somebeast who's been livin' a rather lonely life himself, and would like to have some company as his seasons dwindle."

The fox's voice was now in the otter's ear. "So what do you say, Skip? What other choice do you have? I'm the only friend you've got."

For a long moment, the otter made no response.

Then he slowly began to sit up. Once his head was raised, his brown eyes locked with Rasouk's gold ones. The two animals stared at one another, Skipper's face oddly blank while Rasouk pasted on his sincerest of smiles.

And then a small smile began to form on the lips of Skipper, causing Rasouk to smile wider-

-until the otter suddenly spat in his face.

The fox squawked and rubbed furiously at his eyes while Skipper teetered to his feet and headed towards the den's exit-

-only to be seized by his rudder and flung into the opposite wall.

"That ain't nice, Skip!"

* * *

"Well... this certainly is turning out to be quite a night of revelations," said Marok after the pine marten spilled out his life story.

"I don't see why you had to lie to us," frowned Rocc.

"I was trying to escape my old life," said Miru. "I realized that I could start all over, so I did." He heaved a rough sigh. "But as long as Zurzak's out there, I won't be able to move on. So... what do you all say? Should we go find Skip or should we just go on wasting time?"

The words barely left the marten's mouth before a choked gasp came from Soilburr, who stumbled backwards, his wide eyes staring directly at Miru. Or at least Miru thought the mole was looking at him. But even as another gasp escaped from Rocc, and Marok brushed past the pine marten, he realized that Soilburr was looking _past_ him.

Miru whirled around, and felt his heart burn, freeze, and turn to lead.

Barely visible in the lantern's light stood a towering figure, swathed in a long black cloak, with a pair of gleaming green eyes fixated on the pine marten.

"Stay back," said Marok, brandishing the sword of Martin at the wildcat. His voice was firm but just barely concealed a tremble. "We know what you've come for, and we know that you've got Skip, but we're not going to let you-"

A large, clawed paw shot out and seized the mouse's blade. Taken by surprise, the flabbergasted Marok found his sword twisted out of his paws and cast aside. In the next instance, another clawed paw cuffed the mouse upside the head, knocking him to the ground.

"You Redwallers really need to learn how to keep a better grip on your weapons."

The other three youngbeasts fell back as Zurzak stepped over Marok's feebly stirring body towards them. Soilburr was the next one to spring into action, twirling his sling and letting it fly. The stone hit the wildcat squarely on the shoulder.

Snarling, Zurzak's long arm again shot out and gave another heavy blow, landing the poor mole flat.

Rocc, after seeing his dibbunhood friends struck down one by one, lost all his nerve and ran full speed in the opposite direction, dropping his sling in the process. Leaving Miru alone to face the wildcat.

Miru's face paled beneath his fur and he took a step back as the wildcat's huge frame came closer. And closer.

One of those large clawed paws was reaching out towards him...

...and then, without thinking, Miru took the lantern in both paws and threw it with all the force he could muster.

Zurzak gasped as he flung up his arms to ward off the hurtling object. The lantern's glass shattered as it made contact with the wildcat - and set his cloak aflame. Giving a small screech, the wildcat flailed around, hitting his cloak and trying to rip the burning pieces off.

Without wasting another moment, Miru turned and ran with all his might in the direction that Rocc took.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry for this being a short chapter, but I was too impatient to update. Anyhow, it looks like my original plan to have only 25 chapters has been scrapped. I'll end up having more. But hopefully you'll all enjoy every step of the way. :)


	25. A Small Battle

**Chapter 25**

It was the strangest sensation, running full-pelt through the woods with no light. It was by sheer luck that the pine marten didn't trip over any roots or run straight into a tree. Before, he had always been able to see these things, and now, he might as well have been blind.

Behind him, Miru could still hear the roaring of Zurzak, and was convinced he'd soon feel the wildcat's claws sink into his back.

But the more he ran, the quieter Zurzak's screams became. Yet Miru ran on, feeling the familiar sensation of his feet slamming into the hard earth, branches scratching at his arms and face, the wind blowing through his ears...

Finally, the gasping pine marten could run no more, and leaned forward with his paws on his knees. He heaved in as many gulps as he could... and suddenly became away of how silent the woods had become. Gone was the sound of screeching, nor were there any hints of pursuing footsteps.

Zurzak wasn't following him. At least not yet...

Swallowing, and wiping sweat from his neck and forehead, the pine marten stumbled onwards, realizing he would have to find a hiding place or-

-he heard something.

Blinking, Miru stretched out an arm and felt the rough bark of a tree, and huddled down next to it, trying to calm his battering heart. The frazzled pine marten strained his ears to find which direction the sound was coming from, fearing the worst. As he listened, however, he realized that it couldn't possibly be Zurzak. It sounded much too high-pitched to be the wildcat... and it sounded like gasping... and sobbing...

Suddenly getting a good idea of who the sound belonged to, and which direction it was coming from, Miru eased himself to his feet and set off, his eyes growing used to the darkness. Within moments the sobbing became more pronounced. Careful not to upset any fallen branch or bump into any trunk, the pine marten stealthily made his way to the source of the sound: Rocc, curled up at the base of a tree, crying as if his heart were breaking.

Despite this, Miru's first instinct was anger towards the squirrel. He hadn't tried to fight Zurzak like his friends had. He hadn't even tried to help them. All the cringing little brushtail had done was drop his sling and run off! Noticing a stick just by his footpaw, the seething pine marten stooped down, picked it up, and snapped the stick in two.

Rocc gasped and squealed, jerking his head upwards. "Who... who's there?" he stuttered, eyes darting about in their sockets.

Miru stepped into view, his own eyes hard as diamonds.

"You _left_ us."

Hardly looking relieved to see that it was only the pine marten, the trembling Rocc got to his feet. His wide eyes and cheek-fur were damp with tears. "I didn't mean to! I was scared."

"And do you think I wasn't?" Miru snarled, taking a step forward. "That monster is after _me,_ you had nothing to worry about! None of you did, and yet it was poor Marok and Soilburr who stayed and fought and were struck down! And I stayed too! I didn't go running the first moment when things got hard! You _coward!"_

Sniffling, but also glaring, Rocc took his own step forward. "_Coward?_ What about you? You say that you stayed, and yet here you are! Where are Marok and Soilburr now, eh? Did you teach them a magic trick on how to become invisible? No, you ran too! Any fool can see that! You didn't try to stop and help them, even after they risked their necks for you! No, you took to your own feet and ran too! Well you can call me a coward all you like, at least I know I'm not a hypocrite! A _lying_ hypocrite!"

Without thinking, Miru lifted his right arm and gave the squirrel a back-pawed slap, just like how he had seen his father give an upstart soldier so many seasons ago.

_Smack!_

Rocc staggered, clutching his cheek and staring at the marten with wide, burning eyes. He then shot his own paw out, raking Miru's face with his sharp dewclaws.

_Scratch!_

Hissing and stumbling back, the pine marten made a fist, pulled back his arm and shot it forward with all the strength he could muster - making direct contact with the end of Rocc's nose.

_WHAM!_

The squirrel, taken by surprise, lost his footing and fell backwards, landing on his rump with a thud.

Neither creature moved after that, aside from their chests heaving, and Rocc clutching tenderly at his bleeding nose.

Miru stood over the squirrel, thunderstruck at what had just transpired. He, Miru... he, the former frail prince... the sickly pine marten who once could barely hold a spoon in his shaking, bony paws... had just toppled another living beast...

Somehow, reason returned to Miru, and the young marten's eyes watered as he realized that he had struck down a creature he once called friend.

Placing a paw over his mouth, Miru whispered, "Oh, Rocc... I'm so sorry..."

"No," the squirrel responded, his voice slightly nasally as he staunched the bleeding. "I'm the one who should be sorry." He sniffed, and looked up with wet eyes. "I didn't have any reason to run. You did, though. The wildcat's after you..."

The pine marten shook his head. "But the doesn't mean... I shouldn't have hit you..."

"I scratched you," the squirrel shrugged, a small smile playing about his lips. "I'd say we're about even."

As inappropriate as it was, Miru found himself giving a brief smile as well. He then extended a paw down and helped Rocc to his footpaws. "Alright then... what do we do now?"

Rocc, after making certain his nose had stopped bleeding, said, "Well... we came out here to find Skip. Only now we're separated from Marok and Soilburr. We have no weapons, no light, and we have no idea where we are. Oh, and there's a crazy wildcat somewhere out there that'll probably kill me before carrying you off... by the way, could you explain again just _why_ he's after you?"

"In all honesty, I don't know," Miru replied quietly. "I think he told me once why he was, but I've long forgotten it. All I know is that it seems he's been after me all my life, for whatever reason, and chances are I won't be rid of him... unless.."

"Unless I refresh your memory," said a voice that didn't belong to either squirrel or marten.

* * *

_...a small smile began to form on the lips of Skipper, causing Rasouk to smile wider-_

_-until the otter suddenly spat in his face._

_The fox squawked and rubbed furiously at his eyes while Skipper teetered to his feet and headed towards the den's exit-_

_-only to be seized by his rudder and flung into the opposite wall._

_"That ain't nice, Skip!"_

Slightly winded, Rorac growled in response, "Less than what you deserve, fox!"

The otter stumbled forward, only to be struck in the face by Rasouk. Snarling, Skipper whirled his arm at the fox's head, knocking his foe down. The fallen Rasouk, however, was not bested yet. He lunged forward and sank his teeth into the otter's leg.

Bellowing in pain, Rorac pounded his fist on the fox's back, and when he felt Rasouks' jaws loosen, he yanked his leg free and slung his rudder around, catching the fox in his midriff. Rasouk gasped for air, holding his stomach. Skipper pounced, wanting to pummel every inch of that damn fox's body!

But Rasouk was no stranger to brawling. He managed to lock his legs around the otter's waist, grabbing Rorac's neck with one paw and twisting his ear with the other. Choking and growling, the otter sank his claws into the fox's back, and soon the two were rolling about in the dirt, locked in combat, punching, kicking, biting, scratching, scowling and grimacing.

Finally the two were separated after they each simultaneously pushed the other away. In separate corners, the two animals caught their breath, glaring across the den at each other.

Rasouk sneered, saying, "You don't fight half as well as I expected you to."

"Let's say I'm trying not to kill you," rumbled Rorac. "I want you to suffer. Just like you made me suffer!"

"_I_ made _you_ suffer? Oh come now, we both know that's a bald-faced lie! It was _you,_ yourself, that made you suffer, not me. You were the one who killed that squirrel. You were the one who ended that poor creature's life just when it was starting to get good. You were the one-"

Rorac howled with rage and lunged. Rasouk, however, lunged as well, only off to the side. The otter missed the fox by inches, and soon Rorac found Rasouk's arm locked around his neck, while the fox's free paw grabbed hold of the otter's arm. Rasouk held the otter's neck far tighter than he ever had before; he was very close to throttling Skipper.

In his normal state, Rorac would have been able to throw the fox off of him. But now, after barely surviving a savage fight with Zurzak, weeks of lying in bed and growing soft, and being knocked on the head, the otter was not in the best of shape. Fruitlessly tugging at Rasouk's arm with his free paw, the otter swayed about, the world starting to go blurry before his eyes.

Finally he gave up and knelt down, scrambling to find something to hit or stab the fox with, a rock or Rasouk's knife. But neither of these things seemed to want to materialize to assist Skipper. Grunting, the otter did all that he could do: stagger back to his footpaws and slam himself and Rasouk backwards into the wall as hard as he could.

The fox grunted on the impact, but still held fast.

Rorac repeated the process, again and again, and finally felt Rasouk's grip loosen.

It was all the otter needed. He yanked the offending limb from around his neck and threw the fox off his back. Only to collapse next to him on the ground.

The two creatures lay there in the dirt, breathing deeply, covered in scratches and bruises. They lay there for uncounted minutes, before Rorac choked out,

"You... betrayed me."

Rasouk turned his head to stare at the otter. "Wh... what?"

"You... betrayed - me," the otter repeated. He did not look at the fox, but stared up at the ceiling. "You told... my secret... after you... promised..."

Rasouk blinked, and guiltily looked up at the ceiling as well. "I didn't... mean to. ...He... Zurzak... forced it... outta me. ...It's... hard to be brave... around... him."

Rorac slowly shook his head. "You still... betrayed me."

"Skip..."

"An' don't call me 'Skip.' I'm not a Skipper anymore." The otter paused, taking a few more deep breaths. "My whole world... is gone. Thanks... to you."

The fox rolled himself over onto his side, his face almost sad. "Rorac... I didn't mean to tell Zurzak your secret. He forced it out of me, honest. And what's more, he seemed to have already guessed about you. He told me he saw you coming from here one night. You must not have seen 'im. And he already knew your name when he asked me and... well... he just seemed to know how to ask all the right questions. And there were those claws of his.

"Admit it, Sk- er, Rorac. You were scared of 'im, too. You were ready to go in there, into the abbey, and get your pal, weren't you? But then as soon as Zurzak was outta sight, you were able to get brave again, no? You were able to resist him when he wasn't around, but he never left me alone. There was no chance for me to get my nerve back.

"But... what's done is done, Sk... Rorac. We can't go back and rewrite history. The only thing we can do is decide what we're going to do in the future. And now," the fox continued, sitting up and leaning over the otter, "is the time to decide where we're going to go-"

_Whack!_

"Ugh!"

Rasouk fell limply on top of Rorac. The startled otter shoved the unconscious fox off of him-

-and saw a grimly grinning Marok standing over him, holding the one and only sword of Martin in his paw, a beaming Soilburr by his side.

"Wha...?"

"Hello, there, Skip!" was all the mouse said as he and the mole helped Rorac to his feet.

"Hurr, you'm certainly look'm loike you'm been 'it upside ee head with ee gurt hammer!" chuckled Soilburr.

"What...? How...?" Rorac was flabbergasted. He hadn't heard the two come into the den, how were they able to just appear out of thin air?

Seeming to guess the otter's thoughts, Marok explained, "We wandered by and found the entrance to this place, but thought it wasn't such a good idea to just come barging in. So Soilburr here dug another tunnel. We were able to walk in all nice and undected!"

"Hurr, you'm never heard us'n once!" said Soilburr, grinning ear to ear.

Finally getting a hold of his senses, Rorac seized the two youngbeasts by their shoulders, causing them to wince. "What are you both doing outside the abbey? Why did you follow me? Don't you realize how much danger you two could be in?" Suddenly he realized something. "Where're Rocc and Miru? Why aren't they with you? Did something happen? _Tell me what happened!" _he yelled, shaking the mouse and mole.

"If you'd stop asking something so many questions," Marok groaned as he released himself and Soilburr, "we'll tell you!"

Getting a hold of himself, the otter took a step back. "You're right, you're right... I'm sorry. But, please, tell me! Quick."

"We know, Skip," Marok said softly. "Martin told us. Everything, Skip. We know what happened with the squirrel, and with the fox, and with the wildcat."

Rorac squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face away. Even though he already expected them to know all about him, he still couldn't look at them... wait, did Marok say that _Martin,_ and not _Miru_, had told them?

"And we want you to come to the abbey with us."

The otter's eyes opened and he turned his face back to stare at them, stunned.

_What? _

Marok gripped Rorac's paw, looking up at him with steady eyes. "It was an _accident_, Skip. You didn't mean to harm anybeast! You don't have to leave Mossflower just because of an accident. You're still a Redwaller, Skip, you're one of us!"

"But I..."

"Talk to the abbot. Talk to Streamsleek. They'll help you. They'll counsel you. They'll understand, just like I understand, and like how Soilburr here understands, and Rocc and Miru..."

"...Where are Rocc and Miru?" the otter asked quietly.

Marok swallowed. "We had a run-in with the wildcat."

_"What?"_

"Rocc and Miru ran off," the mouse quickly said. "Miru threw his lantern at the cat, he caught on fire, and they ran off before he could get them. It was dark and we couldn't find their tracks-"

"Well I will!" Rorac hurtled towards the den's exit without a backwards glance.

Marok made to follow the otter, but was stopped by Soilburr.

"Hurr, shouldn' we'm tie up ee fox?" the mole wondered.

The mouse glanced at the still-unconscious form of Rasouk, hesitated, and shook his head. "There's no time, we have to follow after Skip! Come on!"

* * *

The pine marten's eyes widened, and his paw was seized by Rocc, who screamed, "_Run!"_ And Miru found himself being almost dragged along by the squirrel, his already tired legs feeling like they were about to fall off.

How did Zurzak do that? How was he always able to sneak up like that? How could such a big creature move with such stealth?

The forest seemed to have grown much thicker, for now even more branches and bushes and rocks impeded the squirrel and marten as they raced through the woods. It was like everything was trying to enclose on them, bar them from any escape from the pursuing wildcat.

_"Dernwyyyyyyyynnnnnn!"_

The bloodcurdling cry made Miru run faster. He no longer cared how scratched and bruised he would have to become in order to escape that thing. His wrist hurt from Rocc's grip on it, and several times the squirrel would yank him in a different direction, trying to throw Zurzak off the trail. Miru thought his entire arm would rip right out of his socket any time soon.

He would even find himself having to climb over logs or narrowly missing a boulder as they ran. He could barely see anything, but it seemed Rocc had better night-vision than the marten, so Miru allowed the squirrel to take the lead. Part of him wondered why Rocc didn't try to get them up a nearby tree, but realized that would take too long; Miru had never been a tree-climber and Rocc knew it. They had to remain on the ground.

Suddenly the marten was abruptly pulled down when Rocc tripped over something, and the two youngbeasts found themselves tumbling down a hill. Miru managed to grab hold of a rock sticking out of some moss, but Rocc lost his grip on his friend's arm. The next thing the marten heard was a loud splash, and was suddenly aware of the sound of running water.

Rocc had fallen into a river!

Realizing this, Miru released his hold on the rock and slid down the hill, managing not to fall in. He could barely make out Rocc's head floundering in the water, hanging desperately onto a large branch overhanging the bank.

"Miru!" the squirrel gurgled, splashing frantically.

The pine marten positioned himself as firmly as he could on the bank, reaching out as far as he could. "Grab my paw!" he called over the rushing water. "Grab my paw! Hold on!"

_"Miru!"_ the squirrel screamed again, and Miru realized that Zurzak was yet again upon him.

Without a backward glance, the pine marten dove into the water next to Rocc.

For a brief second, everything was muffled and calm as the water closed in over Miru's head, and then things became loud and frenzied as he resurfaced: Rocc was screaming and gasping, Miru himself was coughing and heaving, the cold water was splashing and foaming... and up there on the bank, stood a towering mass of black, roaring out those now dreaded words: "Little prince!"

All of that was gone in a flash as the current carried Miru off. And as the pine marten struggled to stay above water, trying to remember all that he had been taught about swimming, he was suddenly swallowed by the river, back into that quiet, indistinct world... where all was cold and dark.

* * *

**A/N:** Again, sorry for such a short chapter, but hey, at least you didn't have to wait long for it. And heh, I guess I'm starting to like all these cliffhangers. I hope to keep you all on the edge of your seat until the end. ;)

Also, fun fact: that last bit with the river was actually inspired by the movie "Return to Oz." If you haven't seen that, I strongly reccomend that you do, because it is an awesome movie. :D


	26. The Cliff

**Chapter 26**

It was the first day of spring, and Queen Daylily wanted to take full advantage of it.

For so long it seemed like the sky was an ominous gray, and the wind had a cruel bitter chill to it. But now the sky was a lovely shade of blue, and the wind had taken on a gentler, more soothing coolness. Already the green fields and forests seemed to be on the verge of sprouting out hordes of blossoms.

Daylily loved it. And she wanted her youngest son, Dernwyn, to be out in it. Not yet five seasons old, the tiny pine marten barely knew what springtime looked like yet.

But his mother was going to take care of that. She ordered one of the cooks to prepare a small picnic for herself and Dernwyn, and after giving a farewell kiss to her husband and Kirin, her older son, the lovely queen set out with her youngest.

"Please be careful out there," Orrick urged her, his handsome face creasing with worry. Normally the martenking would have gone out with his wife, but just the other night some strange new travelers had arrived, and Orrick had not properly received them yet.

Daylily gave a small laugh. "I'll be alright, don't worry."

"Yeah, Dad, she'll be fine!" piped up Kirin, who wanted to stay behind and see if one of the newcomers really was a wildcat. "Dernwyn will protect her!"

The smallest pine marten then took on what he imagined to be a fierce, protective scowl. "Yessah, I protect Mummy!"

Orrick laughed and picked up his tiny, squealing son. "Alright, son. I trust you. Make certain you bring Mummy home safe and sound, alright?"

"Yep, yep! If'n anybeast tries to hurt Mama, I'll cut their tails off!"

* * *

It certainly was refreshing to be out and about in the warm spring air and to feel the soft green grass beneath her footpaws instead of being cooped up all day in a drafty old castle and with nothing but cold stone underfoot.

But oh well. She was out now, and that was all that mattered now.

The martenqueen smiled as she watched her son giddily chase a bright yellow butterfly. Even though he was almost five seasons, he could have easily passed for three.

Unlike Kirin, who was surprisingly tough and sturdy, Dernwyn was a frail child, that looked like the slightest breeze could blow him away. But goodness, he was beautiful: silken fur of a rich brown that possessed a reddish tint that only appeared in certain lights, creamy gold-colored ears and throat, and enormous ethereal blue eyes.

Many of her subjects said that Dernwyn took after his mother in looks, but Daylily could hardly believe it. Whenever she looked herself in the mirror, she saw a plain female marten, nothing more. But Dernwyn took her breath away, and could melt her with a look from those amazing eyes.

"Mama!"

Daylily blinked and beheld a beaming Dernwyn at her feet, holding up a cluster of small flowers towards her.

"Ooh," the martenqueen cooed, kneeling down to accept the flowers. "They're so beautiful, thank you, Dernwyn! You always know just what to do to make Mama cry!"

The small pine marten tilted his head to the side. "But I don' wan' you to cry!" he protested.

Daylily laughed and hugged her son. "It's alright, darling. I'm not."

* * *

The day continued on with the two making their way through field and forest, picking up more flowers and chasing more butterflies along the way. At one point they even came to a small brook which the martens paddled in.

Finally Daylily found a blossoming tree she thought would be perfect to picnic by.

"Dernwyn, let's have lunch now," she called to her son.

The little prince dropped the small colored pebbles he found and raced over towards his mother, eager for something to eat. Daylily laughed at this, recalling that the old vixen who delivered Dernwyn had advised her to make certain that her youngest son eat regularly.

As the tiny marten gobbled down the bread, cheese, and fruit the cooks had prepared, Daylily stroked his head fondly, leaning back against the tree contentedly.

She was happy. Life was warm and beautiful. And she hoped that it would remain like this forever...

And then a strange thing happened.

* * *

The sky once again became gray and dark, the air bitter and icy. Daylily looked around, startled by the shocking change. Winter had just ended, it couldn't be coming back now!

Annoyed and frustrated, Daylily looked down to pick up her son-

-except Dernwyn wasn't there.

"Dernwyn? Dernwyn!"

The little pine marten was nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly a strong rush of wind pushed against the martenqueen, toppling her back against the tree. Daylily tried to sit back up, but it seemed as though heavy chained weighed her down. The sky became darker, ominous, like a storm was brewing.

"Dernwyn! Dernwyn, come to Mama! We have to go! DERNWYN!"

Only the howling winds would answer, and they seemed to be mocking her.

Lightning flashed. Rain started to pour. And still the martenqueen couldn't lift herself back up.

"Dernwyn! Dernwyn!"

Another flash of lightning-

-and Daylily thought she saw the outline of another beast.

"Hello? Dernwyn? Hello, who are you?"

The shadowy creature started coming forward.

"Don't... don't come any closer! Identify yourself first! Speak to me!"

But the figure remained silent, and still it came walking forward, and bringing with a presence of wintry coldness... and despair.

"Don't... don't... Dernwyn! DERNWYN!"

Ligthning flashed.

And Daylily's mouth dropped opened.

It _was _Dernwyn.

Only it wasn't her Dernwyn... no, not the one that had been happily eating his lunch just moments before... no, this Dernwyn... she didn't know how it could possibly be Dernwyn, but somehow she did, and... this Dernwyn before her...

He was older, much older... almost a youngbeast... and yet so... so... he was thin, gaunt, hardly any fatter than a skeleton. His fur had lost its luster, and gray hairs were visible.

Daylily stared at the creature before her, who stared right back with eyes that had no joy, no warmth, no love... no hope... only sadness... coldness... and despair...

"Mama!"

Daylily gasped, jerking herself up-

* * *

-and the air was warm again. Everything was bright and soothing.

And Dernwyn was small and plump again, bright-eyed and beautiful, his beautiful smile radiating joy and excitement.

"Mama you fella 'sleep!" he squeaked. "I found so' new flowers-"

The martenqueen cut her son off by catching hold of him in a tight embrace.

"Oof, Mummy!"

"I'm sorry, Dernwyn," Daylily murmured, squeezing her eyes shut to staunch the tears. "Mama just had a little nightmare, that's all."

"And yer about to have another."

The martenqueen looked up, startled, to see a dirty-looking weasel standing nearby, lounging against a tree as he drew a lethal-looking scimitar from his belt.

Dernwyn held up a small branch that he must have found when his mother had been asleep. "You stay away, or I cut y'tail off!" he growled as savagely as he could.

The weasel laughed.

And so did the other vermin who stepped out from the trees, surrounding the martenqueen and her child.

Dernwyn wavered at the sight of numerous larger creatures all bearing knives and swords. Daylily suddenly noticed a gap between two of the vermin. Gripping her son's shoulders, she shoved him in the direction, screaming, "Run, Dernwyn! Run!"

The little marten stumbled forward but managed to keep on his footpaws and dodge the rats and weasels reaching out for him.

"Run, Dernwyn! Run, baby! Find Papa and bring help!"

Daylily's shouts were cut off when the weasel placed his scimitar against her throat.

"I don' think that little brat'll be quick enough t'get yew some 'elp, darlin'," he leered. "Why don' I show you th' way to cut off a tail?"

The martenqueen trembled exceedingly, her eyes darting from one merciless gaze to the next.

_Oh please don't let them catch Dernwyn, please don't let them catch Dernwyn,_ was Daylily's last clear thought before the grinning vermin began their cruel game of torture.

* * *

It was a dream, but Miru did not know it. Few beasts realize it when they are dreaming, no matter how odd the elements are.

And Miru's dream certainly was odd, considering that it was an out-of-body dream, though the pine marten had no previous knowledge of what "out-of-body" meant. All he knew was that he was standing in his old bedroom, back at the castle, and that it was night-time... and that he could perfectly see a sleeping form in his bed.

Upon closer inspection, Miru realized that the sleeping form was... himself. His old self, Dernwyn.

Before the pine marten could wonder at this, he found himself pulled back a little, as if he were meant to witness the following events as an audience member.

Next, an even stranger thing happened: a long trail of thick, green vines began slithering their way around the bed, almost as if they were live snakes. Miru watched as the vines wrapped themselves around the bedposts, the footrest, the headboard, and finally began making their way over the blankets.

And then the sleeping marten, Dernwyn, woke up. His blue eyes widened at the sight of the vines, and he gasped - only for a vine to insert itself horizontally through his open muzzle, gagging him as it wrapped itself around his head. Disgusted, the terrified pine marten bit through the vine, spitting out green bits as he struggled to escape the bed-

-only for an even thicker vine to enter his mouth, wrapping itself around his skull as other vines took hold of his flailing arms, spreading them wide, while his legs were wrapped tightly together.

Suddenly the door burst open, and there stood King Orrick, horrorstruck at the sight of his son being lifted up into the air by the vines, unable to move or call out for help. Drawing his sword, the pine marten king stepped forward, his eyes ablaze.

Only his sword was suddenly knocked to the side by an invisible being into the shadows.

A voice spoke.

"You and I... made a deal."

The voice was Zurzak's.

King Orrick shook. His eyes darted around, trying to locate the source of the voice. "You will not take my son from me. You will not!"

The marten's voice echoed throughout the room, slowly receding into silence. And then the vines holding Dernwyn suddenly set him down, very gently, on the floor, releasing him. Orrick began to step forward with a relieved smile-

-only to stop dead in his tracks when he realized that his son's eyes were no longer their normal blue color, but green... with slitted pupils...

The younger marten smiled... a horrible, horrible smile, and when he spoke, it was not in his own voice, but Zurzak's.

"You know the penalty if you don't keep up your end of the bargain."

Dernwyn lifted a claw, which grew and grew until it became as long and razor-sharp as the wildcat's. He then traced the claw against his own neck, causing Orrick to whimper and cringe.

"You don't want anything to happen to your son, do you?" Zurzak's voice purred, still speaking through Dernwyn. Miru thought it was the eeriest thing he had ever seen.

Orrick sobbed, his eyes watering. "Then... then please... let me say good-bye..."

The younger marten's eyes returned to their normal color, his claw returning to it's normal size, and Zurzak himself took form as he stood at Dernwyn's side.

"Done."

Trembling with grief, Orrick knelt before his son, whose face took on a strange, hypnotized look, as if he were no longer aware of his surroundings, or unable to control his own actions.

Tears cascading down the older marten's cheeks, Orrick gently placed his arms around his son's bony shoulders, kissing Dernywn's dry cheek. "I love you, son. So, so much. You might not understand or hear me now, but I do. I love you. ...Good-bye, my son."

As he watched this scene unfold, Miru felt as if his heart would break. Suddenly, however, he took notice of a fourth creature in the room, only it was hidden in a dark corner. It was impossible to tell what species it was... and yet the marten knew that this creature meant no harm... nor did it mean to offer any help. It was only there to see if it could turn the events to it's own selfish advantage...

Giving a shaking sniff, the marten-king released his son and stood up - only to be seized by Zurzak.

"No good-bye kiss for me?" the wildcat leered, bringing his face close to Orrick's.

The older marten's face twisted in disgust as Zurzak brushed his own cheek against his lips, and wrenched himself free, wiping the back of his paw against his mouth.

"Now leave," the wildcat commanded, no longer mocking. He had one arm wrapped around Dernwyn's shoulder; the small marten continued to stand still and stare off into the distance, a mere statue.

Casting one last look of farewell to his son, a tearful Orrick turned and ran from the room, the door closing on it's own.

The room was suddenly no longer Dernwyn's old bedroom, but a different room; still made of stone, but larger, emptier... Save for a towering pedestal that had a slanted ramp wrapping its way around the column.

Zurzak gave his little marten a gentle push towards the ramp, and Dernwyn, still with that hypnotized look on his face, obediently walked over, and made his way up, until he reached the very top of the pedestal.

There he stood, the grand prize of Zurzak, who watched adoringly from below...

...until the same shapeless beast from earlier came swinging down from the shadows on a rope, and seized Prince Dernwyn.

Zurzak snarled and leapt after them, howling with rage, but it was too late: the shadowy beast and Dernwyn swung through the air, and the beast let go of the rope at the right moment, so that he and his prisoner could fall down a well...

And Miru awoke.

* * *

That was the first thing that he was aware of, that he was awake. The rest came in a jumble; he didn't know what he realized next, whether that he was lying in mud, or that he was half-in the river, or that the sky was now much lighter... it looked like it was almost dawn...

At first all the pine marten could was just lie there, slowly taking in the fact that he was awake, and what happened the night before. His head was pounding, his ears slightly ringing, and he was cold and wet all over. Not to mention he felt as tired as hellgates. And he would still have to move himself to fully get out of the river, unless he wanted to die of cold.

Groaning, the pine marten raised himself with unstable arms, and began crawling through the mud, slowly easing his legs and tail out of the water. Looking up, Miru realized that he was in a sunken area of ground that connected to a shallow part of the river. He must have been washed up there...

The marten paused, trying to remember what happened between now and when he jumped into the water. He remembered sinking... something hitting his head... having that weird dream... and then waking up...

Miru sat up, his joints very stiff, and looked himself all over. He was covered in mud, scratched all over, with numerous tears in his habit. But that easily could have happened when he did all that running last night. Lifting a paw, Miru felt one side of his head and hissed, doubling over. There was a small lump just behind his ear, undoubtedly from whatever struck him in the water, a rock maybe... But other than that, he certainly didn't have any broken bones, though he probably did have a few bruises.

Certainly was a bit of luck that he had died... maybe even a miracle... maybe Martin was keeping an eye on him. Who knew? Nevertheless, he couldn't lie around in the mud forever. He had to get moving.

The damp pine marten then heaved himself to his feet, though he felt momentarily light-headed once he stood straight up. Kneeling down, Miru breathed deeply, trying to collect his thoughts. He had fallen into a river, was knocked unconscious by a rock, and was washed up here in his sleep...

...Rocc. Where was Rocc?

Standing straight up again, the marten looked up and down the river, trying to find a trace of his squirrel-friend. No sight or sound of him. Miru didn't even know if he had been washed down the river along with the pine marten or not. For all he knew, Rocc could be in the clutches of Zurzak...

...No. No, Miru wouldn't think like that. Already one his friends had been taken by that wildcat, he wasn't going to take another one. If anything, Rocc probably let go of that branch he was hanging onto in order to escape Zurzak...

...what if Zurzak dove into the water after Miru?

That opened up a whole new world of possibilities. What if Zurzak hadn't had the same fortune as Miru, and died in the water? What if he had drowned, or hit his own head a little too hard against a rock, or a log?

Or worse, what if _Rocc_ had drowned, or knocked his head against something a little too hard? What would he tell Marok and Soilburr?

Marok and Soilburr. Where were _they? _..And where was Skip?

Once again Miru sank into the mud, overwhelmed. This... this couldn't be happening... he couldn't be reduced to wandering the woods all along again? Always alone, forever glancing over his shoulder for any trace of Zurzak?

_Oh, Martin, please help me,_ the young marten thought, sobbing. _I know I'm not a great warrior... I'm not even a woodlander. But... but please, they told me at the abbey that you help creatures in need. I can't fight Zurzak, I just can't. I need help, I..._

For some strange reason, Miru looked up.

He didn't know what made him do such a thing, but he now sat up, alert. He wasn't alone.

* * *

Rocc hurt all over. But that was hardly surprising, since he spent most of the night running through bushes and hanging desperately onto a branch, trying not to get swept downriver. The squirrel never realized before how soft and easy his life had been up until then, and thought it a miracle he hadn't died after last night's events. After Miru jumped into the water after him, the marten was gone in a flash, followed not long by the wildcat.

For a long, horrible moment, Rocc didn't know what to do. Either he try to climb back up onto the bank, or he try to swim after the other two and help Miru out. Realizing he didn't want to run away a second time, Rocc released his hold on the branch, and was nearly pulled underneath the water as the current carried him along.

Thankfully the squirrel didn't knock into any rocks, though there weren't many to begin with. It was the most hellish experience of Rocc's life, and he hoped never to repeat it. But what made matters worse was that he lost track of Miru and the wildcat. The pine marten was lost from sight almost instantly, but the wildcat's bulk could still be seen through the waves. But even then, after awhile, Rocc began to concentrate more on trying to keep afloat than anything else.

By the time he saw fallen log sticking out of the water, the wildcat was nowhere to be seen. Though at the moment, Rocc's main concern was to grab hold of the log, which thankfully he did.

Heaving in deep breaths and even sobbing a little, the squirrel could do nothing but hang there in the rushing river...

...until he heard a friendly voice say, "Don't you know to come in out of the water?"

Looking up, Rocc saw the two most beautiful faces he ever saw: Marok and Soilburr, each covered in dirt and bruises.

* * *

Miru's head whipped this way and that, trying to locate the unseen presence.

Zurzak? Chances are, it was… but then again, there were always more dangers in the world than just one wildcat.

Stepping his way through the mud, the marten kept a look-out for anything that moved. So far the dew-covered forest remained still. At least one good thing had happened: it was now light, almost day-time. He could see what was going on in front of him now.

Climbing out of the sunken area, Miru unsteadily got to his footpaws again, barely able to contain a shiver. Breathing deeply, the soaked pine marten took a few more steps, and stopped, once again looking around.

What _was_ that? It wasn't a sound... it wasn't like he saw anything... it was more like... like something kept on getting his attention, and yet there was nothing there... or at least, he didn't think...

Miru hurried over to the nearest tree, huddling against it.

_Get your back to either a tree or a rock - force your enemy to come at your blade!_ That was what Kirin always told him... except he didn't have a blade. He used to have a knife, back when he escaped the castle, but he dropped it somewhere in the woods. Stupid of him to do such a thing...

This time he heard something.

It was... some of kind of a growl... no, it was... something like a moan, or something in between a moan and a growl. Placing each of his paws behind him against the tree, Miru looked this way and that, trying to catch sight of anything that could tell him where the sound was coming from... unless it was behind the tree.

Swallowing, the pine marten slowly, ever so slowly, eased his way around the tree trunk. First he saw nothing but forest, and the rest of the river-

-and a large mound of black.

Whipping back around the tree, Miru leaned his head back against the trunk, his heart hammering so hard it threatened to break through his rib cage. His paws shook uncontrollably. A cold sweat overtook his body.

Swallowing again, the marten tried to calm himself. _Maybe he didn't see you..._

Steeling himself as best as he could, Miru again eased his way around the tree...

...and Zurzak wasn't there anymore.

Blinking rapidly, the pine marten stared. But... but he was there a moment ago... or had he? Had Miru just... simply imagined him?

Hoping that he had, the young marten turned-

-and found himself face-to-face with the wildcat.

Giving out a strangled gasp, Miru spun and raced in the opposite direction... though he wasn't going nearly as fast he wanted to. He could hear the pounding footsteps of Zurzak just behind him, getting closer and closer, _the wildcat was upon him-!_

And then he tripped.

Miru was saved by a root sticking out of the ground, for in the very split second that he tripped, Zurzak made a leap that would have enveloped the pine marten, only to miss him by inches as he landed stomach-down on the ground. As the wildcat picked himself back up, Miru scrambled around on all fours, trying to get back to his footpaws-

-which were seized by two large, clawed paws, that started pulling him back.

Once again the pine marten found himself being dragged back, and Miru desperately sought something that he could use to fight with-

-and felt his paw fold over what felt like the handle of a dagger.

_His_ dagger. The very dagger he had brought with him from the castle and lost in the woods.

Partly dumbfounded that he should find this weapon when he needed it the most, the pine marten turned his body as best he could and reached back, striking at the paws holding his ankles.

Zurzak screeched in surprised pain, releasing his hold. Miru rolled over onto his back, holding out his dagger, staring up at the wildcat with wide eyes as Zurzak licked his bleeding paw.

"Keep back," the pine marten breathed, propping himself up with his free elbow. "Keep back. Don't make me kill you."

Heaving, the wildcat quietly responded, "Why? Why should you kill me?"

Before Miru could answer, Zurzak took a step forward, his voice a low growl. "Surely you don't prefer that _monster_ over me?"

The marten snarled. "Don't you talk that way about Skip!"

"Ah, yes, _Skip,"_ the wildcat spat, as if the name were the most vile curse in the whole world. "Your precious _Skip._ The one who murdered a child like yourself! The one who lied and deceived a whole abbey of creatures! The one who stole and thieved all to keep his good name! He is no good, Dernwyn, no good! He is only deserving of your hate and contempt. He is _vile,_ little prince. A vile, repulsive, scheming, crawling, maggot-infested-"

"THAT'S MY BROTHER YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!"

Miru was on his footpaws. He was shaking like mad all over, still holding up his knife, the urge to sink the weapon deep within Zurzak's chest growing stronger by the second. It was almost like that horrible time when Orrick died...

Both animals stood before each other, eyes locked. The pine marten's eyes were wide and blazing with a blue fire, while the wildcat's were green and stunned.

"Brother?" Zurzak whispered. He too began to tremble. An anger which the young marten had never seen crept over the wildcat's face. "He is not Kirin, Dernwyn. He is not your brother. Your brother is _dead._ Dead because of some stupid war that your father just _had_ to have. That otter is not your brother, little prince!" he almost shouted, taking a step forward. "He is a murderer! A murderer, Dernwyn! A _murderer!_ Just like those vermin who killed your mother! Just like those soldiers who killed your brother! Just like that weasel that killed your father! _Just like those pirates who killed my family!" _

The wildcat was now within arm's reach of Miru, who could now see... see _tears,_ flowing down from those slitted green eyes. The pine marten began to step back, startled out of his anger, his old fear beginning to creep back up.

"He killed that creature," continued Zurzak, spittle flying from his screaming lips, tears streaming down his striped cheeks, "he lied to a whole forest about it, stole from an abbey, and yet you _still_ call him 'brother'! You place him on the same pedestal as Kirin! You even risk your own safety for him! And what for? Why? Why, little prince? _Why?_ Because he is handsome, like Kirin was? Is that it? Because he is freshly polished and guilded? Because he has never had to sleep in the dirt on cold winter nights? Because he never had to scrounge for his next meal? Because he is treated like a prince in this country? Because-"

Miru could take no more of this. He dodged past the wildcat and ran full speed. They were still alongside the river, and the pine marten could see that the river led onwards towards a nearby lake-

-except right in front of him was a cliff. Miru skidded to a stop, staring down at the sudden drop. Far below was a pile of rocks and boulders, all damp from the waterfall that the river turned into before joining with the lake.

The marten turned and watched as Zurzak came creeping up, his baleful eyes burning, drool hanging from his sharp fangs. Miru was trapped. To his right was an old tree hanging over the waterfall with more than half its roots pulled up. To his left was an open space that led to more forest, but Zurzak saw that and positioned himself so that he could easily reach the marten if he tried to run past again.

There was only one last place to go.

Miru turned and climbed up the old tree, thankful that it was at an angle, and that he still had his dagger to sink into the bark as he made his ascent.

A heavy paw landed on the pine marten's shoulder. He hadn't climbed fast enough.

_"Why,"_ hissed Zurzak's voice in his ear. Miru could barely hear him over the rush of the water. "Just tell me _why_ you prefer him and not me, little prince? _Why?"_

For a moment, all the pine marten could was hang there, clinging to the tree with his knife and claws, facing away from the wildcat, who continued to breathe down Miru's neck, waiting for a response.

And then, managing to place both footpaws on one of the branches, the young marten was able to turn and face Zurzak. Meeting his gaze full on.

It was as if a light had sparked in his head, and he finally understood the deep hatred he felt for the animal before him, ever since he was little. It was more than just a childish fear of a creature that looked monstrous to him. It was so much more.

"It was because of you," Miru said softly, "that my whole family died. It was because of you... that my mother and I went on that picnic alone. My father should have been out there with us. But he wasn't, because he had to stay behind and receive _you._ He could have saved her... but he wasn't, because of you. And with Kirin... you could have convinced my father not to send him out to fight. You could have convinced him to do otherwise - _you were his advisor!_ But you didn't! And my father died... because you took away his position... as king. ...You put him... all alone... in that dungeon... where anybeast could have gotten to him... and they did."

Tears were now forming in the young marten's eyes. He could barely see the wildcat's face before him, though it had the oddest look. It was neither surprise, or sadness, nor guilt, or anger.

_"It was because of you!"_ Miru suddenly screamed. Tears began falling down his cheeks. "It was because of you... always... always it was because of you..."

Suddenly the world jerked. There was an ominous cracking noise. The old tree was unable to sustain the marten's weight for long. It was tilting... tilting over the cliffside...

It all happened so fast. One minute he was face to face with Zurzak. Then he was falling sideways, losing his grip on the tree. Next there was Zurzak, his paws taking a painful hold on Miru's arms, and yet still they continued to fall...

What seemed an instant later, Miru was laying on the ground, having rolled away from the wildcat who had previously held him. It took him a moment to realize what had happened: as they fell, the wildcat folded his arms around the pine marten and turned in mid-air so that he would take the worst of the fall.

There the wildcat lay, flat on his back, breathing hoarsely, a broken shell of his former self.

For awhile, all Miru could do was lie there, staring at the creature that he had feared and hated for so long... the very same creature that just saved his life...

...that had done what he said he wanted to do from the start: protect the young marten.

Trembling, Miru crawled over towards Zurzak, hardly knowing what he was doing. Blood was pooling out of the wildcat's mouth, his paws were weakly twisting, and when he looked at Miru, there was a great sadness in those once sinister green eyes. He coughed and gurgled a bit, and then spoke.

"You were my childhood," he said hoarsely. "You were... everything... that I was... before they came. Before... the corsairs came. Be... fore... everything... became cold... and empty. Before they took... everything... away... from me..." Zurzak began to shake his head, a beseeching look in his eyes. "I didn't realize... I had become them. I had become... what they were... what I... hated. I'm... so sorry... little prince. So sorry." He coughed and swallowed. "I... see it now. I... did to you... what I was trying... to protect you from... and it was all... in vain... I'm so sorry, Dernwyn. I'm so sorry." More tears began streaming down the wildcat's face. "If I could... go back... and change... but it's all too late. It's all too late. Everything is still... cold... and empty..."

The pine marten's own eyes watered again, and he laid a paw on the wildcat's chest. Zurzak weakly lifted both his paws to enfold over Miru's. It was so strange... surely, not in a thousand seasons would the young marten have predicted he would be grievous at the wildcat's passing...

Suddenly Zurzak's paws squeezed Miru's.

"But no, little prince."

Miru stared. Zurzak was not looking at him.

"No... Look... look, little prince. Look at the light."

The marten turned and looked, and saw indeed, the sun was rising. It was indeed glorious, a golden light shining just behind the sea of trees... except Zurzak did not seem to be looking at the sunrise. Even though he was looking upwards into the lightening sky, his green eyes seemed to be seeing something... far off.

"The light... the light... oh, it's so... so warm... so beautiful. Oh, little prince, can you see it? Can you feel it?"

The wildcat's eyes were no longer sad, though they were still streaming with tears.

"Oh Dernwyn... can you seem them? Are they really there? Mother? Mother, is that you? Mother... Mother... oh, Mother... Uncle... my friends... you're here. You're all here. Little prince... look, little prince, can you see them? Can you see them?"

Zurzak was actually smiling now, his face a picture of pure love and happiness.

"My friends... my family... my friends... they're all here... they're all here. They're coming to take me home, little prince. They're coming to take me home... oh, Dernwyn... oh, Dernwyn... it's so bright... so warm... oh, it's all so warm... Mother... yes, Mother. I'm coming home... I'm coming home... I'm home..."

The light faded from Zurzak's eyes. His paws became limp and cold. And yet he kept on smiling.

Miru continued to gaze down at the wildcat's face. He was numb from shock and exhaustion... and unable to decide just how he should feel now. All this time, Zurzak had spoken the truth. He had only wanted to protect Miru... but everything had been against him from the start. The young marten remembered all his past encounters with the wildcat, and felt an upsurge of guilt. Zurzak had been truthful with him all along, about himself and his intentions. True, the wildcat was undoubtedly not right in the head... but never had he intentionally hurt Dernwyn...

The pine marten paused, and breathed, staring into Zurzak's smile.

_Let him go, Miru,_ said a voice inside his head. _Let him go. He is where his heart has been all along. He no longer has any need of you, nor you of him. Remember him for his intentions, and learn from what he has shown you. _

Miru swallowed, realizing that Martin was right. But at least there was one thing he could do for Zurzak now. He reached up, and very carefully, closed the wildcat's eyes. He deserved that much.

* * *

The pine marten did not know it, but on the opposite cliffside of the waterfall, looking down upon the scene was none other than the former Skipper, Rorac.

He had arrived just as the leaning tree started to fall, taking Miru and Zurzak with it. The otter could only stand there, horrorstruck, as he watched his little mate plummet towards the earth-

-until the wildcat suddenly seized the marten in an embrace, and took the fall for him. Rorac flinched as Zurzak's huge body struck the rocks beneath while Miru's thin one fell from his arms and rolled away. For one horrible moment, the otter thought they were both dead...

...until Miru raised his head, and slowly crawled back over to the wildcat. Even though he was watching from up above, Rorac realized that the way how his little mate was crawling did not mean he had been hurt or crippled. He was only crawling because he was exhausted. The otter could tell the difference between an injured crawl and a tired crawl.

He then watched as Miru leaned over Zurzak. It was impossible to hear them; he was too far up, and there was the gentle, gurgling sound of the waterfall to contend with.

Never mind. So Zurzak was dead... good. Although he was certainly grateful for the wildcat's surprising act of self-sacrifice, the otter couldn't help but realize that this meant that his little mate would no longer had anything to fear. He could return to the abbey now, and never have to worry about the wildcat coming after him again...

But he, Rorac, would have to stay out of sight, otherwise Miru might see him, and then he would be tempted not to leave Mossflower-

_Bam!_

The startled otter crumbled to the ground with a grunt. Standing behind him, holding a rock, was Rasouk, who, after tossing the rock aside, unwrapped the ropes and cloth he had hanging around his shoulder; the very ropes and cloth he had carried all the way from his old burrow.

Kneeling down, the fox swiftly entwined Rorac's arms, legs and tail together with the ropes. The otter, disoriented from being hit upside the head a second time, could barely fight back as he trussed up again. Although it didn't detract from his distaste at being tied up a _third _time.

Once the gag was secured around Rorac's mouth, Rasouk placed his paws under the otter's armpits and began dragging him off into the woods.

"Not getting away this time," the fox muttered. "It's you and me from here to hellgates."

* * *

**A/N: Some of you may or may not realize that the first section of this chapter contains a one-shot that I used to have called "Bright and Warm." (Admit it, those of you who did read that fic paused after you read the first sentence or two, and went back to see if "Bright and Warm" was still in my story list, didn't you? ;)) I decided that I didn't like having that scene as a one-shot fic, and so, after deleting it, placed it here in this chapter. I think it helps book-end this chapter, as it reveals new information about the day that Dernwyn/Miru's mother died, and it comes into play towards the end. **

**Also, the dream sequence is heavily based on an actual dream that I had a few nights ago. Seriously, I had a dream that actually featured not only my fanfic characters, but also various other Redwall characters. It. Was. Awesome. :D :D :D :D :D :D Of course, it doesn't follow my dream exactly, but I had to make necessary changes in order for it to remain relevant to the story.**

**Btw, any guesses on who the mysterious shadow-beast in Dernwyn/Miru's dream is? **

**And also, of course, we finally have the reason why Zurzak was so hell-bent on having Dernwyn/Miru in his clutches: because he reminded him of his childhood self. In some ways, I think this was inspired a little by "Citizen Kane", even though I started this fic before I saw that movie (ha ha). I actually felt really sorry for Zurzak during his dying moments, and knew all along I didn't want his ending to be sad; but thankfully his ending seemed to write itself from the beginning. Zurzak died feeling warm and happy, even though his body was cold and wet. He is reunited with his friends and family, and will stay that way for all eternity. **

**For those of you who may be wondering about Dernwyn/Miru's kingdom, don't worry, I haven't forgotten about them. They'll be mentioned and explained later on, have no fear. :)**

**But ah, it looks like I had room for one more cliffhanger: Rasouk has Rorac in his own clutches. What shall we do? Will Rorac ever be free from this fox? Will the otter be doomed to spend the rest of his days as Rasouk's slave? Will their ending have the same conclusion as Zurzak and Dernwyn/Miru, where one of them... dies?**

**We'll just have to find out next time. Until then... bwahahahaha!**


	27. The Lake

**A/N:** *GASP* The LAST chapter! *faint*

* * *

**Chapter 27**

The small, bony paws of Miru took the huge, clawed paws of Zurzak and folded them carefully over his chest. In all his days, the pine marten would never have predicted that in a thousand seasons that he would ever do such a tender thing for the wildcat. And yet here he was, arranging Zurzak's broken body in a way so that he was laid out in a noble position on the ground; as if he were a fallen king about to be placed in his tomb. It was all so surreal… so absurd... and yet so fitting.

The young marten found himself doing these things mechanically, and without the slightest apprehension, as though it were the most natural thing in the world for him to be doing this. Of course, the wildcat had saved his life. And Miru finally realized that Zurzak had never meant him any harm.

Finishing up on positioning the arms, the young marten then arranged the wildcat's robes as best as he could, though they were tattered beyond repair, and covered in mud and blood.

Next, Miru gently ran his paws through Zurzak's headfur, trying his best to smooth it. Odd, how the wildcat didn't seem so frightening anymore. Before, he was demonic and hideous, but now... he looked so peaceful… almost handsome, even.

Sitting back, the marten gave a deep sigh. He had done all he could now for Zurzak. There was nothing more to be done... All except burying him, but there was no way Miru could do that on his own. He would need to find Soilburr, and the other two...

...and Skipper.

Blinking, and feeling as if he had just been pulled out of a bucket of ice-cold water, the pine marten leapt to his feet and whirled about, taking in his surroundings.

He was still at the bottom of the cliff, which rose up in front of him like the abbey walls. Behind him and to the left were rocks and boulders, and beyond them was the lake. None of those ways offered any passage back up to the forest.

On the right, however, was the waterfall, and on the other side of that, the marten could see that the cliff made a gradual descent towards the water. He would be able to get back up by that way. And there looked to be just enough land between the wall and the lake for Miru to walk along towards the incline, which was a blessed thing; he still didn't know how to swim.

But first he would have to cross the area where the waterfall met the rocks.

Giving one last glance at Zurzak's body, the pine marten made his unsteady trek along the area of soaked rocks. The spray from the waterfall irritated his eyes and blinded him, forcing him to travel slowly and get him wet all over. And his habit hadn't even begun to dry from coming out of the river!

Nevertheless, Miru went on, squinting as much as he could and using both paws to feel his way across the slippery rocks. Just as he thought he would never get through, the spray lessened, and he could open his eyes more fully. He had reached the other side of the waterfall.

Heartened by this, Miru then made his way over to the wall of the cliff, noting with some dismay that there wasn't as much ground to walk on as he thought. Shaking off memories of almost drowning in the abbey pond, the pine marten stepped up as close as he could to the wall and inched his way across.

He was about halfway across when-

"Miru?"

Startled, the young marten whipped his head upwards-

-and saw Marok, Rocc, and Soilburr all peering down at him.

"Miru!"

Quickening his pace, the pine marten splashed his way towards the bank and was met by the three abbeybeasts, all of them looking worn and ragged, yet grinning. They helped him climb back up onto solid ground, and promptly pummeled him with questions.

"There you are! Where did you go?"

"Are you alright?"

"Hurr, whoit'm you'm a-doin' doawn thurr?"

"Did the wildcat find you?"

"Did he hurt you?"

"Did you fight him?"

"Is yon woildcat be dead'n?"

"Did you find Skip?"

"What happened?"

"Are you okay?"

But only one thing registered in Miru's mind.

"Skip's not with you?"

That silenced the three abbeybeasts, causing them to exchange suddenly anxious looks.

Suddenly it didn't matter that Miru was back on solid ground, because everything was crashing down around him.

* * *

Rasouk couldn't have been happier.

Well, yes, he could have, but that wasn't the point. The point was that he had his father back. Or at least, he had a substitute father now, doubling as a slave. And in some ways, that was better.

Grunting, huffing and puffing, the fox dragged Skipper Rorac amongst the trees as they made their way around the lake. Rasouk still intended to travel south; he heard that the ground was fertile there. He could still force Skipper to farm for them, or at the very least they could steal from some already-established farms.

"It'll be lovely, Skipper," the fox said happily, despite straining under the otter's weight; he also had his satchel and lantern to contend with as well. "Just lovely. You and me, together. Forever. We'll be so happy, just a pair of old bachelors, living the dream. We'll have such fun, finding ways to find food and shelter. We'll tell each other stories, play games, go on adventures together, share a wench or two. You'll never want to go back to your old life, mate, never. No, it'll just be you and me, Skipper Rorac. Just you and me."

Rorac didn't say anything, given that he was still gagged, but he was also struggling to stay conscious. He could barely register what was happening to him now. The only clear thing the otter could think was that he was grateful for being gifted with such a thick skull in order to withstand being hit by both a wall and a rock in the same night.

After a while Rasouk stopped talking, concentrating on carrying his slave to a new life, but within minutes he found he had to stop and take a rest. He let Rorac fall unceremoniously to the ground and leaned against a nearby tree.

"Whew! My, you're certainly a heavy beast, Skipper!" the fox said, wiping the back of his paw against his forehead as he smiled down at the irate otter. "Course you're a lot bigger'n me, mate. It's too bad we don't have a cart or a wheelbarrow to carry you in or..."

As he spoke, Rasouk's eyes roved around the forest, as though he expected a cart or a wheelbarrow to suddenly appear out of thin air to assist him. What he did see, however, was some ways off, back down by the lake. It looked to be a dwelling of some type; a hut... and there, not far away... was that... a boat?

Re-energized by the sight, the fox again slipped his arms up and around Rorac's armpits and dragged him towards the lake, though he was careful to stay out of sight. Laying the otter down more carefully behind a bush, Rasouk then skulked down further, trying to see if he could find whoever dwelt in such a place.

His question was almost immediately answered when a vole wearing a hood came tramping out of the hut, carrying some supplies with one arm while the other held a fishing pole over his shoulder.

_Ah, a fisherbeast,_ the fox thought to himself as he watched the vole ready his boat. Apparently this beast was about to get himself his meals for the rest of the day: the sun was still barely up, a thick mist floating about over the water, and there were fish jumping about, causing several ripples to form here and there in the lake.

But it was the boat that caught the fox's interest the most. Granted, it wasn't a wheelbarrow, but it would still be useful in getting around the lake. In fact, it would be more useful, as it would throw off anybeast who cared enough to come after them. But he better act fast, it looked as though the vole was almost ready to set sail.

Rasouk glanced about, trying to see if he could find a suitable rock to knock his intended victim out. Unfortunately, nothing seemed appropriate for the task. If only he hadn't thrown away that other rock he used on Skipper...

He still had his knife, though...

The vole, arranging rope, tackle, and other such things in his craft, never heard the fox step up behind him.

_Wham!_

The vole's body slumped forward into his boat after the butt of a dagger was slammed solidly into his skull, only to be hauled out and slung ingloriously to the ground.

"Sorry, mate," Rasouk said before running back and retrieving Skipper, loading the still-bound otter into the boat. "But I need this more'n you at the moment. Hope you understand."

And with that, the conniving fox pushed the boat out into the water and leapt inside alongside Skipper. Setting the oars into their slots, Rasouk began rowing them across the lake, breathing in the fresh morning air deeply, as if the two of them were on a picnic.

"Mmm, ahhh. Nothing like an early morning boat ride, eh, Skipper?" the fox said cheerfully to his captive as he rowed them out further and further into the water.

The otter could only give a soft groan in response, blinking confusedly as he took in his surroundings. Rorac tried to sit up, but could only raise his head and shoulders in order to look out over the lake, as if seeing it for the first time.

Rasouk waved a paw at him, chuckling. "Nah-ah-ah, Skipper. Don't even think about trying to escape now. I've never tried it, but I'll wager it's very hard to swim when you're all tied up like that."

Sighing through his nose, the otter laid himself back down. For a moment, nothing was said or done between the two, aside from Rasouk rowing the boat further and further out. The fox then looked down, and watched as tears began to form in Rorac's eyes. Once a good few minutes had passed, Rasouk contented himself that the boat was far away enough from all shores in order for him to cease rowing for a bit.

Placing the oars inside the boat, the fox made his way carefully over to the otter's side, laying down next to him.

"Shh, shh," Rasouk whispered, tenderly wiping at Rorac's watery eyes. "There's no need for that, Skip. No need for that. You can't go back to your old life anymore, and there's no sense you bein' alone all for the rest of your life. Trust me, you'll be very happy once we get our new life started, I promise. Very happy. That's what my mother always said whenever she spoke about my father coming back. That'd we'd always be very happy very. Very happy…"

Rorac, who made no resistance to the fox rubbing his eyes, felt them growing heavier, his vision darker. His eyelids fluttered for several moments, and then closed; the otter had lost consciousness. But Rasouk did not seem to notice as he continued repeating himself, saying again and again how "very happy" the two of them would be, his golden eyes gazing out at nothing in particular. Then those eyes began to flutter as well. Tail twitching limply, claws raking the otter's belly, the fox slowly but surely succumbed to sleep as well.

For the rest of the morning, the boat floated undisturbed in the water as its passengers slept.

* * *

"Isn't there _any_way way one of you can pick up his scent?!" a panicked Miru said, searching through every brush, desperately seeking any sign that would show where his Skipper was.

"We've never really had much experience with tracking," said Marok, though that didn't stop him from trying to find a pawprint, or clawmark, or any loose thread that might have belonged to the otter.

"Hurr, moi noser be'm able to'm pick up ee gurt many smells," said Soilburr, who was searching some distance away from the mouse and marten. He tapped his long nose, grinning. "Oi'll be lettin' ee know iffen ee picks up Zurr Skipper's scent."

Miru went back to looking, his eyes darting everywhere. Everything looked the same and yet different at the exact same time, it boggled his mind. He had already told the other three what had happened with Zurzak, even showed them where his body lay, and now they were investing themselves in trying to find Skipper. With no idea of which way to go, Marok did what they had done just after leaving the abbey: place the sword of Martin on the ground, spin it, and go whichever way it pointed.

Miru was doubtful that would be helpful, as it hadn't been so useful before... only... now that the marten thought about it, somehow it seemed as though what had happened last night... was _meant_ to happen. It had at least led to him and Zurzak to where they could have some closure on their past lives. Had it not happened, maybe Zurzak would still be chasing the marten, and Miru would still be running...

But enough of that. All that mattered now was finding Skip.

A rustle from up above caused Miru to look up just as Rocc came jumping down. The squirrel had taken to the treetops in hopes of finding the otter from a high point of view.

Before anybeast could ask him if he had seen anything useful, Rocc said, "There's a fallen beast by the lake a little ways ahead."

Within minutes, the four youngbeasts were standing over a crumbled up form of an old-looking bankvole.

Marok knealt down beside him, shaking the vole a little. "Hello? Are you alright?"

"Oooohhh..."

"He's alive," the mouse said to the other three.

"Of course I'm alive, you idjit!" snapped the vole, his voice half a groan. He tried sitting up, and required assistance from Marok and Rocc. "Alright, which one of you whipper-snappers hit me?"

"We didn't hit you, we found you like this," said Marok.

"Hah!" the vole said, yanking himself free from the mouse and squirrel, only to stumble and be taken up into their arms again. "Uuugh, take me inter the house, take me inter the house..."

As much as he would have liked to help the vole, Miru couldn't help but itch with impatience. They had to find Skipper, they couldn't waste time! Nevertheless, the marten did not want to lose the help of his friends again, and so followed them into the hut. The dwelling was small, but relatively kempt. There were various pieces of fish bones here and there, some cracked plates and bowls, fishing-gear, and a small pile of tattered blankets, on which they deposited the old vole.

"Reach inter there," he commanded, not looking at anybeast in particular, pointing one gnarled paw towards what looked to be a makeshift cabinet. Soilburr, being the closest, opened it and found some poultice.

"Give it 'ere," the vole said. "I need it fer me 'ead."

"Here, I'll-" began Marok, only to be snapped at again.

"Don't touch me!" the vole snarled. Snatching the poultice away from Soilburr, he carefully began applying it to where he had been hit, wincing as he did.

"So what happened?" Marok asked in a businesslike way, crossing his arms. "Who attacked you?"

"If I thought you lot attacked me," the vole said huffily, "then that means I don't know who hit me."

"I know this is a bit forward," said Rocc suddenly. "But we've had a rough night; do you suppose you could spare us some food and water?"

"What does this place look like to you all? Redwall Abbey?" the vole snapped.

"Hurr, we'm only 'elped you when you'm needed 'elp," said Soilburr, stroking his digging claws.

The vole glared at the mole, snorted, and waved an irritated paw. "Be sparing when you eat. I live all alone, and I've got to save up for the winter, an' the cold weather ain't so kindly on my bones these days."

"You could always come and live at the abbey during the winter," said Marok as he, Rocc and Soilburr went about looking for food. "Many creatures do, I'm sure there'll be room for you."

The vole gave another snort, but made no response. He did, however, suddenly take notice of Miru. "What're you doin' 'ere in my hut, vermin?!"

In the blink of an eye, Martin's sword was level with the vole's eyes.

"That's our friend you just insulted," Marok growled.

"Apologize!" snarled Rocc.

"Hurr aye, bain't no callen for that!" put in Soilburr, frowning at the vole.

The vole's demeanor immediately changed. "Oh, er, please, don't take any offense, young ones! I am old, and I've just been knocked on the head, I don't know what I'm saying!"

"It's alright," Miru muttered, speaking to nobeast in particular. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. "Have you seen an otter at all day?"

"An otter? No, haven't seen anybeast today, other than you lot," the vole said. Knowing that these four creatures were armed gave him a good reason to have better manners.

"Here," said Rocc, pawing over some fish and berries to Miru. "Gotta keep your strength up if we're ever going to find Skipper."

Knowing this to be true, Miru readily ate the food, though he barely tasted any of it. He also accepted a quick swig from a gourd of fresh water from Soilburr. (The vole watched anxiously as his food and water was consumed, though the four were careful not to eat or drink too much.)

"Well, thank you for the food and the water," said Marok, wiping his mouth. "We really better be going."

The vole nodded, looking as though he'd like nothing more than for the four intruders to leave - until suddenly his eyes widened and he hurtled past them out the door. Marok, Rocc, Soilburr and Miru followed, and found the old vole stamping his footpaws in rage.

"My boat! My boat! They stole my boat! My boat! My boat!"

As Marok stepped forward to try and calm the oldster down, the vole turned on him, screaming, "How can I possibly fish now?! How can I possibly eat?! I can't live off of berries and nuts all winter! I need my fish! But I can't fish for them along the shore; they only stay out in the deep parts of the water! My boat is gone! My boat is gone! My boat is gone!"

"Alright, alright! Calm down, calm down!" said Marok, trying to lay a firm hold on the vole's shoulders.

"_You_ be calm!" the vole shouted. "You can go off and do whatever you like, but I can't-!

"HUSH!" roared Marok, shaking the vole. "We'll find your boat, alright? If not, we'll go back to the abbey and see if we can build you a new boat, see?"

"Hang on," interjected Rocc. "We can't go about replacing boats when we need to find Skip!"

"Of course we'll find Skip," said Marok. "But after we do, we'll help this fellow out."

"No, no, you lot go do whatever it is you need to do," the vole said bad-temperedly. "Don't worry about me; an old vole doesn't deserve the attention of four youngsters like yourselves! I'm not important; I'm only wasting your time!"

Marok was about to lose his patience again when Soilburr spoke up.

"Hurr, Marok, do ee remember tha' one foxy villun, what ee knocked out wiffen sword?"

"Yes?" the mouse nodded, furrowing his brow at the mole.

"Hurr, you'm didn't tie ee fox up. May'ap ee woke up, an' took yon voler's boat?"

Marok blinked, and thought for a moment. "Yes... yes, that is plausible... though we don't know for sure if it was him, or why that would be important."

Soilburr tugged his nose. "Hurr, just an oidea o' mine. Burr arr!"

"Well, either way, we must go." Marok turned back to the still-fuming vole. "Thank you again for the food, and I promise, we will be back to help you, but we can't stay another minute. Now..." the mouse turned back to his friends, ignoring the vole's complaints, when he suddenly realized something.

"Where's Miru?"

Rocc and Soilburr looked about. The pine marten was gone.

"Not again," Rocc groaned.

* * *

When Rorac woke up, it was with a much clearer head than he had that morning. Judging from the sun, it had only been an hour or so after sunrise. The otter breathed in deeply, but almost immediately doubled up in pain when he realized that his limbs had fallen asleep from being tied up. To make matters worse, Rorac realized that Rasouk laying right next to him, resting his head on the otter's shoulder and snoring softly.

Trying not to wake the fox, Rorac lifted his head and shoulders as well as he could to get his bearings. To his dismay, the boat they were in was still in the middle of the large lake. They were too far away for anybeast to clearly see them from the shore, and there was no way that Rorac could swim anywhere tied up.

Perhaps he could find some way of cutting his bonds without waking Rasouk up? The otter looked about this way and that in the boat, but couldn't see anything that would offer any service... no wait, was that fishing gear over there in the corner? That would mean hooks... he could get one, and use it to cut the ropes...

Except they were at the other end of the boat. Rorac would have to be extra careful not to wake Rasouk; even though he wasn't sure what exactly the fox would do if he caught the otter trying to escape, he knew it wouldn't be pleasant.

As carefully as he could, the otter tried to ease his shoulder out from under Rasouk's head-

-except the fox mumbled, and his eyes fluttered.

Rorac froze, and just before the fox completely opened his eyes, pretended that he was still asleep. He heard Rasouk yawn and felt him stretch.

"Hhaawwwrrggg, ugghh, oh, that feels better! Nothing like a quick little nap to refresh the senses!"

Next, the otter felt the fox sit up, and heard him take a few careful pawsteps back towards his old spot. Afterwards came the sound of the oars being put in place, followed by faint splashing.

Nothing was said for a while, and Rorac went over his options. Sadly, there weren't many.

He was tied up, unable to break lose, and far away from anybeast's assistance. He could either wait until Rasouk untied him, which seemed unlikely, as the fox had a strange obsession in keeping him as a slave, or he could wait and see if any woodlander might pass by and try to help, which was always possible… or he could just abandon all hope and submit to Rasouk as a willing slave.

That last option made the otter shiver. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life with that crazy fox! Hellgates, Rasouk seemed even crazier than before! Maybe getting hit over the head by the sword of Martin hadn't done well for him.

No, the only feasible option the former Skipper had was to wait and see if anybeast might catch sight of a fox dragging a bound otter along through the woods. Surely such a sight would draw attention, and somebeast might come to Rorac's rescue. True, Rasouk had been lucky so far, but Mossflower was a gigantic place, filled with many animals. They'd be bound to pass by somebeast. It wasn't like before, when Zurzak disguised Rorac with a cloak.

The sound of the oars being placed back in the boat brought the otter back to the present. He kept his eyes shut, wondering what was going on now. Had they reached the other side of the lake?

"Made it."

Rorac took the fox's sentence as a "Yes." He felt Rasouk rummaging around on the boat, and carefully opened one eye just a fraction. He saw the fox placing the fishing gear into his haversack, arranging all the things inside to make room, before slinging it over his shoulder. Rorac shut his eye just as Rasouk began to lean over him.

"Wakey, wakey, Skipper," the fox said in a singsong voice, dragging his claws along the otter's brow. Without waiting for a response, Rasouk forced Rorac to sit up, and once again looped his arms under the otter's armpits. Rorac groaned as his still-asleep limbs were dragged out of the boat, his legs and tail dropping limply into the shallows before being pulled up the shore, into the nearby forest.

The otter tried to waken his limbs, but that seemed near impossible with the ropes cutting off his circulation. He looked about as he was dragged along, hoping to see some squirrel or hedgehog or anybeast that would step forward and rescue him.

But there were none. Somehow it seemed as though he and Rasouk were the only beasts left in Mossflower… in the entire world…

Suddenly the otter found himself being dropped unceremoniously back to the ground, almost knocking the wind out of him, while Rasouk leaned against a nearby tree.

"Whew!" said the fox. "Even after all that rest, I don't think I'll be able to carry you all the way down south. Which is sad, because I don't trust you enough to untie you."

Rorac merely closed his eyes and lay there, unable to speak or do anything.

"However," Rasouk said after a moment, "I do seem to recall something… why didn't I think of it sooner? Why, that cat was a genius!"

Rorac opened his eyes and titled his head back in order to look at the fox, who was grinning very broadly with bright eyes.

"It'll be just like the night we went back to the abbey! Your ankles and tail were tied so that you could walk but not run! And you couldn't use your rudder! That's the perfect solution to this! Oh, and I suppose I better get our cloaks out, they'll keep anybeast from realizing that I'm kidnapping you. They'll just think we're two travelling companions – which we are, in a manner of speaking. Silly of me, not to think of any of this sooner, but oh well. No harm done."

As he spoke, Rasouk walked around Rorac and knelt down by his footpaws. The otter felt a sinking dread; the hope of somebeast seeing them was dashed. The fox spoke true, nobeast would suspect anything if they wore their cloaks. Now the only thing Rorac could hope for were a group of bandits, but that would be even worse; he wouldn't be able to defend himself!

But suddenly, a spark of hope flickered in his chest. Rasouk would have to untie his tail and ankles in order to get them the way he wanted. And if he wanted the otter to walk, he would have to rub the life back into them. It would mean Rorac would have only a second or two of a chance to escape, but right now, that was all he needed.

"Mmff mmgggs," the otter said behind his gag.

"Eh?" Rasouk said, looking up.

"Mmff mmgggs," Rorac persisted, trying to wriggle his legs.

For a while, the fox looked at the otter as if he were speaking a different language (which, in a sense, he was). Fortunately, Rasouk soon figured it out.

"Ah, your legs, I see," the fox nodded, smiling. "Have no fear; I realize that they must be a bit worn out from being tied up so long. I'll have them up and walking in a jiffy."

And with that, Rasouk undid the bindings on his captive, and began rubbing the life back into his ankles, though he ignored his rudder.

Rorac thought quickly. As soon as his legs felt better, he would have to kick Rasouk in a good, solid place, jump to his footpaws, and make a dash back to the lake. He could find a rock to cut the ropes on his arms, and then he'd jump into the lake, where the fox could not follow…

…unless he used the boat. But Rorac hoped that he would, because then he, Rorac, could topple the vessel over, and then swim back out of the lake, and make his getaway.

And he better act soon, because Rasouk was already entwining rope around one ankle-

BAM!

The fox went flying backwards, clutching his gut and gasping for breath.

Following through with his plan, the otter leapt to his feet, careful not to trip over the rope still tied to his ankle. Without wasting another second, Rorac sped off in the direction of the lake…

…and could soon hear Rasouk chasing him from behind.

* * *

While Marok, Rocc and Soilburr were distracted by the vole's ranting and railing about his precious boat, Miru restlessly tottered on his footpaws.

He didn't have time to listen to this creature, he wanted to find Skipper! But what was just as frustrating was that he had no idea where to look or how to start looking.

Oh, _why_ had Martin's sword pointed them in this direction? _Why?_ It wasn't doing them any good, it wasn't helping them, how could they possibly…?

And then somehow, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to turn away from the group and start walking along the water's edge. Nobeast took notice of him as he did this, and within a surprising amount of time, he was out of sight.

The pine marten didn't know what possessed him to go off all by himself again. It was as if somebeast was acting for him, or at the very least was guiding him away.

_Perhaps Martin is lending a helping paw after all… maybe he's leading me to Skipper._

Calmed and heartened by this, Miru picked up the pace and continued walking along around the lake. Maybe there was something on the other side that would give him a clue on where his otter-friend was. And if there was any trouble, well, at least he still had his dagger.

* * *

Rorac felt he never ran faster, nor had he ever ran in such a comical condition: arms tied behind his back, a gag around his mouth, and one rope dangling from his ankle, while his tail trailed limply behind.

Nevertheless, it did not tone down the terror he felt at being captured again. Running willy-nilly through the trees, the otter sought to throw off his former captor, changing directions and dodging behind trees and bushes, all the while trying both to not trip over the rope on his leg and to get back to the lake.

Breathing hard through his nose, Rorac suddenly realized he could no longer hear Rasouk behind him. Jumping for cover by a tree, the otter huddled down, straining his ears for any sign of the fox. For a long moment, all was quiet.

Rorac scanned his surroundings, trying to catch sight of his torturer, but not one red hair could be seen amongst the greenery. The otter suddenly realized he was right next to the lake, only not in the exact spot where they left the boat. He had made it to another cliff overlooking the water. Well, no matter. He better get his arms free and jump in before Rasouk came running over.

Rorac looked about for a sharp rock, but could find none that was suitable. Suddenly a thought struck him; he could use the bark of the tree behind him. It would take longer, but at least he wouldn't have to go searching for a decent rock. The otter began rubbing his tied up wrists against the tree when-

_Snap!_

Rorac froze. Where had that sound come from?

Then there came the abrupt sound of a rock falling… to his right.

The otter turned his head slightly towards that direction-

-and completely missed the sight of Rasouk hurtling towards him from his left.

Tackled to the ground, Rorac tried desperately to fight, kicking with all his might, trying to force his tail to wake up and whack the fox-

-but he began to sob when he felt the rope on his ankle be swiftly entwined around his other, and then his rudder. Within seconds he was securely bound again.

A prisoner again.

His eyes watering with despair, the otter went limp as he was rolled over-

-but gasped in surprise when Rasouk slammed his fist into Rorac's belly with bruising force.

The fox repeated the process, punctuating each punch with a word: "That – wasn't – nice – Skip!"

The otter tried to catch his breath through his nose, unable to do so through his mouth. He tried to stare pleadingly up at his captor. All the fight had left Rorac, he couldn't stand it anymore, he _just couldn't_…

Finally, Rasouk stopped, breathing hard as he leaned over the former Skipper. For a long while, the fox stared down at the wheezing, gagged otter, his expression blank… until a leering smile formed and he began to lean his face a little closer…

"Get. Off. Of him. NOW."

Rorac, whose eyes had previously closed, opened them again.

Both he and Rasouk slowly looked up to see…

Miru, standing with a dagger drawn.

The pine marten was soaked, ragged, bruised, and cut. He looked as if he had survived a war. But most disturbing of all was how his teeth were bared, and how his eyes were flaming with a murderous lust for blood.

Not like the Miru that Rorac knew.

Rasouk sat up, regarding the marten coolly. "Oh. I recognize y-"

"I said get off him. NOW."

Miru's eyes were like blue steel.

Licking his lips, the fox slowly got up from Rorac's body, stepping away.

The otter was horrifyingly reminded of a very similar previous experience.

"Now get going," Miru commanded Rasouk. "You're going to leave, and me and Skip are going to forget all about you."

The fox regarded his opponent for a moment before chuckling. It was not a nice sound.

"You think just because you've got yourself a shiny little knife there, you can give all the orders?" Rasouk suddenly produced his own dagger, which had been keeping in his belt behind his back. Giving the blade a quick lick, the fox then gestured down at Rorac with it. "This here is _my_ otter, not yours'. I'm afraid you're just going to have to get yourself a new one."

"Like hell," responded Miru, taking on a fighting stance he had seen several warriors take.

Rasouk smirked, and stepped past Rorac, who rolled halfway over, trying to call out a warning to his Miru, but his gag still muffled him.

The two creatures would have ignored the otter even if he hadn't been gagged. Both realized that neither was willing to walk away without Skipper, and that there was only one way to settle this.

Knives drawn, the fox and marten regarded one another. Rasouk was taller, fitter, and could easily tell that he was the more experienced fighter. Miru, however, had grown since he first came to the abbey, and was nowhere near being the frail little fledgling he once was. Not only that, but he felt as mad as he had been when his father was murdered, only this time with more sense.

The fox spun his dagger expertly between his claws, grinning broadly. The marten merely held his steady, keeping it fixated on his opponent.

Suddenly, Rasouk made a dive, roaring and brandishing his knife. More by luck than skill, Miru managed to dodge and to strike the fox first, scoring a lash to his side.

Gasping and snarling in pain and surprise, Rasouk made another dive, just barely missing the marten. The two circled one another, Rasouk chuckling evilly and feinting several jabs with one paw while his other wiped at his bleeding side. Fortunately for him, it was only a flesh wound.

Suddenly the fox made another lunge, and Miru found himself reaching up and grabbing Rasouk's knife-wrist with one paw, while his own knife-wrist was quickly seized by the fox. The two tottered for a while, trying to overpower the other. Miru realized he couldn't beat Rasouk at knife-play, the fox was too good. He would have to get rid of the blades in order to have a fighting chance.

Planting one footpaw as firmly as he could in the ground, Miru kicked his other footpaw into Rasouk's shin with all the force he could muster. Taken by surprise, the fox dropped his knife. But Rasouk had his own tricks; he snapped his jaws at Miru's wrist, forcing the marten to drop his knife too.

Not wanting the fox to get his dagger back, the marten pushed forward with all his might. Rasouk nearly toppled over before pushing back. The two collapsed and were soon rolling around on the ground. Miru kicked both knives away as he sank his claws and teeth into his rival, only to find Rasouk on top of him, grabbing the marten's head and slamming it into the ground.

Miru, fortunately, had already managed to position one footpaw on Rasouk's chest, and kicked up forcefully. The fox lost his grip, and after a second kick, was thrown off the marten and rolled away.

Hastily picking himself up, Miru charged at Rasouk, tackling him into a bush. Rasouk, however, pushed the marten away, and, catching sight of one of the daggers, scrambled on all fours to retrieve it.

Miru grabbed the fox's tail and just barely managed to drag him away, before leaping onto his back and lashing down. Rasouk flailed his arm up and backwards, trying to throw off his opponent, before his ears were seized and he was forced up by them.

The fox kicked back, caught Miru in the shin, they wound up back on the ground, with Rasouk once again on top, striking a solid blow to the marten's face.

Rasouk, thinking he had beaten Miru, got up and turned again to retrieve one of the daggers – only for his tail once again to be seized by his foe. The half-dazed Miru used the fox's brush as a rope to climb back to his feet while Rasouk tried to throw him off again.

The marten latched himself onto the fox's shoulders, and the two were locked in combat again, pushing and pulling, biting and clawing, until Miru was once again pushed forcefully back to the ground. This time, however, Rasouk was also pushed backwards, and landed right next to a small boulder.

Seeing this, the fox got to his knees, picked the rock up, and heaved it over to where the groaning marten lay. He hoisted it up above his head just as Miru looked up, and dropped it the split second the marten hastily rolled out of the way.

Snarling, Rasouk lunged at Miru, who clutched at the fox's throat. The two opponents grappled wildly, tearing each other to shreds. Miru managed to grab both ears on Rasouk's head and shook him madly.

The fox clawed his way for freedom, and they both ended up on the ground yet again – only this time, with Miru on top.

The marten then began pummeling the fox, hitting him again and again with his fists, just barely realizing that he was taking out all his anger and frustration on his opponent, who, taken aback by the savagery of such a frail-looking creature, tried to shield himself from the oncoming blows.

Finally Miru ceased hitting the fox, only to get another grip on his neck. Rasouk, clawing at the marten's face with one paw, used his other to pry off the paw enclosed around his neck, and leaned his muzzle forward to bite it. Miru returned the favor by biting the fox's clawing paw.

Wrenching his paw free, Rasouk gave an almighty shove that thrust Miru away, but the pine marten leapt to his feet again, barely aware of the many wounds he's sustained. He charged again at Rasouk, who was clutching at his bleeding nose as he stumbled to his footpaws.

All this while, Rorac lay there on the ground, horrified and awestruck by what he was seeing. For a good while, all he could do was just lie and watch, but then he began to struggle with his bonds. He had to get free, he had to help his little mate, there was no way he could beat Rasouk on his own!

The otter then realized he could cut his ropes with one of the fallen daggers. All he would have to do is crawl over to one and try to grab it behind his back. Grunting, the otter sat himself up and tried to locate where the knives had fallen. More than once, during the fight, they had been kicked out of the way, and wound up in several different places.

Suddenly one of the blades was kicked in Rorac's general direction, only it landed near the cliff's edge. Desperate to get free, the otter crawled his way over as quickly as he could, and then, turning his back on it, felt around to pick it up.

Meanwhile, the brawling fox and marten were positioned not far from Rorac. Rasouk gave Miru another shove, which sent the marten into the otter…

…who staggered and fell over the edge.

Time seemed to slow down long enough for Miru to turn his head just in time to see the widened eyes of Skipper… and then they were gone, followed by a loud splash.

Miru and Rasouk froze.

Then Miru roared and thundered back towards Rasouk, tackling the fox into a bush, fighting him with a renewed frenzy. Rasouk desperately tried to escape the onslaught, flailing his claws about and kicking upwards, but it only stopped long enough for the marten to pull back his fist and let it fly with all the force he could muster.

_WHAM!_

The fox's head violently spun, and he fell in a heap, groaning and clutching his nose. Shaking his aching paw and wincing in pain, Miru noticed a small log nearby. Picking it up, the marten brought it down between the fox's ears.

_CONK!_

Rasouk's eyes rolled back into his head, and he fell over, out cold.

Dropping the log, Miru turned and raced towards the cliff, retrieving his dagger in the process, and jumped off without a second thought for his own safety. As he fell, however, his heart seemed to rise into his throat, causing him to take a deep breath of air-

-and then sooner than he realized, he hit the water, was surrounded by a mass of bubbles, and then was promptly sinking like a rock.

For once the marten was grateful that he didn't float. He never thought he'd ever be so relieved to be sinking.

As he sank deeper and deeper into the cold world of silent, watery blackness, Miru suddenly heard the sounds of muffled groaning. That could only be Skip. Unable to open his eyes in the water, the marten was forced to reach out with one paw, the knife-free one, to find the otter. For a while, he couldn't feel anything…

…and then his paw brushed up against something, and realized he was touching Rorac's handsome face.

Careful not to stab his Skipper, Miru groped his way down and around until he was behind the otter, and felt for the bonds on his wrists. Finding them, he quickly began cutting them with his knife.

But even as he began doing that, the marten realized he didn't have that much time left: he could barely hold his breath any longer! Panicking, Miru cut faster and faster at the ropes… until he felt his body betray him, and his mouth opened, letting his air out… and the world slipped away…

Rorac, however, being able to hold his own breath for much longer, was able to stay awake, and found that the marten had cut the ropes just enough from him to break his arms free. Wiggling his arms, he forced them awake and finally broke the wretched bonds. The otter then snatched up the fallen knife and freed his legs and rudder in one swipe.

And then, taking Miru's body in both paws, Rorac swam the two of them upwards as powerfully as he could, holding the marten up so that his head could break the water first.

* * *

After shaking off the bad-tempered bankvole, Marok, Rocc and Soilburr began yet another search for Miru, only this time, thankfully, there had been a faint set of pawprints along parts of the shore, although they lost track of them after a while.

"Where could he have gone?" groaned Rocc. "Why would he just walk off like that?"

"Obviously he wants to find Skip as soon as possible," said Marok.

The three youngbeasts were still by the lake, as that was where the trail ended.

"Well, where do we go next?" Rocc wanted to know.

Suddenly they heard what sounded like a scream off in the distance. A roar, actually.

"Hurr, Oi supposen' we be goin' off in that there direction!"

Without further ado, the three abbeybeasts hurried through the forest towards where they heard the sound, although they didn't see anything… until…

"Look!"

Marok and Soilburr looked to where Rocc was pointing, and saw, to their horror, what looked like Miru falling off a cliff overhanging the lake. They watched, stunned, as the marten's body fell through the air into the water with a loud splash.

Marok wasted no time. Slinging off the sword of Martin and casting it into Soilburr's arms, the mouse ran forward and leapt into the water and swam out. Rocc and Soilburr, not being as good at swimming, hurried down further toward the shore, where they waited anxiously for their friends to come back up.

They waited… and waited…

And finally, suddenly, not one, not two, but three heads came bursting out of the water: Marok, Miru… and Skipper! The otter had a white cloth tied around his mouth, but he was still recognizable.

Giving out glad cries, the squirrel and mole splashed into the shallows as Marok and Skip swam Miru to the shore. They were quite stunned, even horrified, when they saw all the scars that Miru had acquired. They also noted that the pine marten was not conscious…

Pulling the gag down from his mouth to around his neck, Rorac took charge. "Give 'im room, mates. Lay him down gently on the ground."

The three youngbeasts followed the orders, helping to lay Miru down on the dry ground, and stood back as the otter knelt over him.

Just like before, Rorac placed his mouth firmly against Miru's, and breathed in deeply. Next, he placed his large paws on the marten's narrow chest and pressed down firmly three times. He repeated process, each time a little quicker.

Marok, Rocc and Soilburr all watched, expecting Miru to come around just like last time… only… they didn't recall it taking this long…

Rorac breathed out hard, pressed down harder.

_C'mon, little mate, come on! You can't be dead, you just saved me, I gotta save you, you gotta live, you can't die, c'mon breathe, mate, breathe! You can't be dead, you can't be dead, you've-got-to-be-alive-now-breathe-BREATHE!_

He was about to put his lips over Miru's again when he thought he heard something.

Then he heard it again.

A gurgle.

And then Miru was retching, sitting up, spitting out water, coughing... gasping for air…

For a moment, nobeast moved. Then the pine marten was engulfed by all four of his friends.

Breathing in deeply, Miru reached out a paw and grabbed his Skipper's arm.

"You were going to teach me to ice skate."

* * *

"With all due respect, Abbot, you're off yer bleedin' rocker!"

"No offense taken, my son," Abbot Fir said calmly.

"But you're tellin' me _not_ to form a search party when my chieftain, and four of your own charges, are out missing while there's some deranged wildcat on the loose!" cried Streamsleek, waving his paws around.

"I am telling you not to do so because there is no need."

The otter winced, cracked his knuckles, tapped his rudder on the floor of the gatehouse, and said as calmly as he possibly could, "How is there 'no need', Father Abbot? Huh? Just how? I'd love to hear any explanation you can dish out."

"Martin spoke to me-"

"Oh, not another dream, Father! That could've been just one too many trifles, or one ale too many!"

"Do you mean to call me glutton and a drunkard?" The abbot's voice was calm, though there was a slight edge to it.

"I'm sorry, Father, I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." the otter trailed off, holding up a paw as he struggled to control his temper. "I'm just trying to say, how could a dream from Martin tell you that there's no need to try and find Skip and the four young uns? Why would he say such a thing?"

"In any other case I would agree with you, Streamsleek, but not this one. Martin came to me in a dream, as I told you, and told me not only the secret that Skipper Rorac has been keeping these past several seasons, but also that there would be no need for any search party to go out and find him and the young ones. He told me that they would return safely to the abbey."

"Aye, and did Martin tell you just _when_ they would turn up?"

"I am afraid he didn't, but he said that he would, and right now, that is good enough for me."

"Well it's not good enough for me!" Streamsleek hollered, slamming his rudder down hard on the floor. "I haven't got time to listen to superstitions-"

"My dear otter, you know very well that Martin is no mere superstition. His spirit has helped many a time during our abbey's history, and I see no reason to stop trusting him now."

Streamsleek sighed, rubbing his temple. "I don't mean to sound disrespectful, Father, but… Skip's out there, he's not in the best of shape, and those youngbeasts… and the sword of Martin is gone…"

"That can only mean that it is in the paws of one of those creatures out there, and that Martin watching over them."

Streamsleek sighed again, and began walking back and forth. "Well, what're we supposed to do, then? Just sit around on our duffs and wait for them all to come back?"

"I suppose so," replied the abbot, who did feel sorry for the otter; he knew Streamsleek to be a beast of action and not one for waiting.

"And how long do you think that'll take, eh? Days? Weeks? Seasons?"

"I am afraid I don't know, my son. Like I said, we can only trust Martin's judgment on this matter."

Streamsleek sighed for a third time, and slumped down on the cot. Looking back up at the old mouse, the otter asked quietly, "So... Skipper's secret... what do you plan on doing about it?"

The old mouse folded his paws into his wide habit sleeves. "I must admit, it was quite a shock when I first learned it. However, I think that is why Martin told me about it last night, so that I would have time to recover and give the matter some rational thought. And I hope that you will have given the matter some rational thought as well?"

Streamsleek buried his face into his paws, rubbing his eyes. "Ahh, it's all just so... I don't know what to think. I suppose if and when I see Skipper again... I'll make my decision then."

"I suppose that's as good an answer I'm going to get at the moment," Abbot Fir said.

For a moment, there was silence. The Streamsleek spoke up.

"Have you told anybeast else?"

"Yes. I told Sister Grace, but I asked her to keep things quiet, and to be ready when Skipper and the youngbeasts return."

Streamsleek nodded, and silence reigned again.

Suddenly there came a loud knocking at the gate.

Exchanging wide-eyed looks, both mouse and otter hurried out of the gatehouse, opened up the door…

…and there stood Marok, holding the sword of Martin, with Rocc, Soilburr, Miru and Skipper Rorac just behind him, each and every one of them soaked, bruised, muddied and scarred.

"Good morning, everybeast," the young mouse smiled. "I hope you didn't wait breakfast for us."

* * *

Minutes later, the abbot and Streamsleek were back in the gatehouse with Rorac, Miru, Marok, Rocc and Soilburr. Sister Grace was also there, tending to their wounds and forcing them to drink foul-tasting medicine ("To keep you all from catching some nasty colds!").

Marok, Rocc and Soilburr eagerly recounted last night's adventures, telling all of what they experienced and what Skipper and Miru had told them, taking turns speaking and sometimes interrupting one another.

Rorac sat quietly on the cot that he vacated only the night before, only it felt like a season since he lay down upon it. He was still rather dazed at being back in the abbey so soon after his self-imposed exile, but he knew coming back was the only way to ensure that Miru and the others would get the treatment that they needed. The otter looked down at his little mate, who was seated in his lap, wrapped in a blanket, with one arm sticking out in order to take a firm hold of his Skipper's fur. Throughout the entire trek back home, the marten had refused to let go of the otter.

Abbot Fir sat in an armchair, listening calmly but intently to the three youngbeasts' tale, as was Streamsleek, though the latter kept on stealing a few glances at Rorac.

"And we found the vole's boat and rowed it across the lake and gave it back to him," said Marok.

"He didn't act too grateful, but none of us really cared. We just wanted to get back to the abbey," said Rocc.

"Hurr, Oi sooperly glad we'm back 'ome noaw!" smiled Soilburr.

Realizing that the tale was finished, the abbot sat back with a sigh. "So then. Now we all know everything. The next question is... what shall we do next?"

Almost everybeast's eyes darted in Rorac's direction.

The otter swallowed, and knew it was his turn to speak.

"I left the abbey last night, proclaiming myself an outcast, Father Abbot. I intended never to return to Mossflower for what I had done. And I am still willing to do-"

_"No!"_ Miru clung to his Skipper with an even greater force. "No, you're not leaving me again! If you leave, I'm going with you!"

"And if that's the case, Skipper," said Sister Grace, "then you ought to wait until spring or maybe even summer before you go tramping off to who know's where. Miru needs to stay here during the cold weather. So do these three, as well," she added, gesturing at Marok, Rocc and Soilburr.

"Aye, that means if you leave, Skip, we'll follow you again," said Marok fiercely.

"Absolutely!" said Rocc.

"Hurr, ee surpently will!" chimed in Soilburr.

"That's out of the question," stated the abbot. And just as the three youngbeasts began to shout him down, the old mouse spoke over them, "I'll not have any of you leaving this abbey again, at least not until you have reached adulthood. Therefore, the only way to solve this is to insist that you, Skipper, stay."

The otter sat there, baffled, trying to speak. "I... I..."

"It was an accident, Skip," said Streamsleek, speaking for the first time since his chieftain's return. "You may have killed an innocent youngbeast, but you didn't mean to do it. I know you, Skip, longer than anybeast here. You're not a dangerous beast and you're not a threat to the abbey. You'd never intentionally hurt somebeast. But..."

The whole room suddenly became tense.

"...you still covered up what you did. You still did a whole bunch of other things that are questionable. Let me say my peace," he added when Marok showed signs of interrupting. Turning back to Rorac, he said, "I think the self-imposed exile is too harsh and unfitting for what you have done. You can't leave Mossflower, Skip. You're a part of everybeast here; we wouldn't be full without you.

"However, I still believe you should be punished in some way. That is why... I think you should step down as Skipper."

Everybeast was silent. All eyes were on Rorac.

Finally the otter spoke. "I... I already relinquished my title, so to speak, in placing the title of outcast on myself. Technically, you've been Skipper ever since last night, Streamsleek."

"Well then, there shouldn't be a problem!" said Streamsleek with the slighest of smiles, spreading his paws.

And suddenly, the whole room seemed lighter, and a few creatures managed to laugh.

"Hey wait a minute," said Marok. "This means we have to get used to calling Skip 'Rorac', and Streamsleek 'Skip'!"

"That's right!" cried Rocc, smiling widely.

"Hurr, Oi be'd surpently confuzzled," chuckled Soilburr.

"I don't think I'll get used to being called 'Skip' myself," said Streamsleek. "I think it better suits you," he added to Rorac.

"How about this," said Marok. "We can still call Rorac here 'Skip', but we'll call Streamsleek 'Skipper'?"

"I'm not too sure about that," smiled the abbot. "It might get too confusing."

Streamsleek tested out his new title, "Skipper Streamsleek. That's a bit of a mouth-full."

"Then we'll just have to find you a nickname that distinguishes you from Skip," grinned Marok.

"How about 'Skipper Stream'?" said Rocc.

"Hurr, or Skipper Sleek?" said Soilburr.

"Or how about 'Skippy Sleek'?" grinned Rocc.

"Not a chance, squirrel!" Streamsleek growled playfully.

"Or what about 'Skipper S'?" suggested Marok. "Or better yet, what about 'Triple-S'? After all, your new title has three 'S's in it."

"Well, we'll think of something," smiled Streamsleek.

"Wait."

All turns again turned to Rorac.

"What about all the abbeybeasts? Are we going to tell them too?"

"I think," said Abbot Fir, "that it would be unnecessary to do so. Everybeast here has forgiven you for your actions, but it is quite possible that not everybeast outside will be willing to do so. They might let their fear get the better of them and become uncomfortable, and even question whether we are right in letting you stay at the abbey."

"You're not suggesting we lie to them?" said Rorac, looking horrified.

"Absolutely not. I say that we tell them just what happened: the fox, Rasouk, was in league with the wildcat, and they lured you and Miru outside the abbey, and Marok, Rocc and Soilburr went after you with the sword of Martin. After a terrible night, the wildcat wound up dead, and the fox ran off. Mossflower no longer has any need to fear them anymore.

"And after such a battle, you, Rorac, have grown tired and decided to pass on leadership to Streamsleek. You plan on living out the rest of your days here at the abbey.

"And," the old mouse added before anybeast could say anything else, "should you wish for your story to be told all the same, I suggest you do as Martin the Warrior did. He had a past himself, but kept it very quiet. Nobeast knew about it until well after his death. I think it would be wise for you to do the same, Rorac. Live your life here at Redwall peacefully, do all that you can to be an example to every living creature here. And when you days come to a close, perhaps your friend, Miru, will write about your past, so that future generations may learn an important lesson about forgiveness. And redemption."

Tears spilled forth from Rorac's eyes. "Thank you," he whispered.

There was not a dry eye in the gatehouse. Sister Grace pulled out kerchief and dabbed her eyes. Streamsleek wiped his own with the back of his paw, as did Marok, Rocc and Soilburr. Miru buried his face into Rorac's chest. Abbot Fir blinked several times. Nobeast seemed certain of what to say next...

"Zurzak."

All eyes turned to Miru.

"We need to bury Zurzak, the wildcat. His body is still by the lake, we have to go back and bury him-"

"You're in no condition to be going back out," said Sister Grace. "I've got to get you back up to the infirmary, you're in the worst shape out of all of them."

"But Zurzak-"

"We'll make certain he gets buried, mate," said Rorac, giving his marten-friend a reassuring hug.

"I'm afraid I need you to be up in the infirmary as well, Skip. You're in appalling condition too."

"But... but Sister! I've been spending all these weeks in this gatehouse-!"

"And now you'll be spending some time in the infirmary."

"It'll be fine, Skip," smiled Streamsleek. "I'll take care of burying the wildcat. It'll be my first official duty as Skipper. Besides, you get to go back to being treated like a princess," he added with a wink.

"Hah hah," said Rorac.

"Um, Sister? Do we have to be in the infirmary?" Marok asked anxiously, gesturing at himself, Rocc and Soilburr. "I mean, we're the only ones left who know where the wildcat is, we need to show Streamsleek, I mean, the new Skipper, where he lays."

"I think they are in well enough condition to go back out," said Abbot Fir. "But first they will need to get washed up and dried, of course. And get something to eat."

"Um, that reminds me," said Rocc. "We haven't been able to discuss it much, of course, but... Miru, you said you were a prince, right? What happened to your kingdom?"

Everybeast waited for the pine marten to reply, but Rorac said softly, "He's fallen asleep. His grip on my arm has slackened."

"No matter," said the abbot. "We will let him have his sleep. And afterwards, we may question him a bit more about his kingdom, and see what has become of it in the future. But now, I suggest we all go about our duties."

"Right," said Sister Grace in a business-like manner. "Skip, would you carry Miru up to the infirmary? I'll draw you both a nice warm bath. I'll draw you three some baths too, and get you some fresh clothing. I'll also have Friar Tumble prepare you all a good breakfast. Go on, the lot of you," she said, herding the three youngbeasts out before her by flapping her apron at them.

"I'll gather the abbeybeasts and tell them all that has transpired," said the abbot, heading outside as well. "They're all just itching to know, I mustn't torment them any longer."

"When that's done, I'll gather the crew and see about finding that wildcat and digging a grave for him," said Streamsleek. "And, um, Skip..." he added to his former chieftain, who was about to walk out carrying Miru. "What about the fox? Shall we form a search party for him?"

Rorac looked at the new Skipper for a moment, looked away for another moment, and gave his answer. "No. Let him be. I don't ever want to see him again."

* * *

After their wounds were cleaned, two wooden tubs were filled with steaming warm water and soap suds for Rorac and Miru. The two had themselves a long, luxurious bath (Rorac comically noting that this was the first time since their reunion that Miru let go of him; the pine marten flicked a few suds at the otter), scrubbing dirt, mud, and dried blood from their pelts. Rorac hummed a little tune as he washed.

When they were done, Rorac, wrapping a towel around himself, hauled himself out of his tub and set about finding some clean clothes for them to wear. He was able to find the very same long nightshirt that Miru had worn during his first days at the abbey, and dug up a loincloth for himself.

"Here you are," the handsome otter said, folding the nightshirt on nearby stool for the marten. "Get out when you're ready. I'll be making up the beds."

By the time Miru came out, he found Rorac being fussed over by Grace, who was applying extra salves and bandages to the otter.

"Goodness me, Skipper Ror- I mean, just Rorac. But I don't think I've ever known another creature who could get himself beat up so badly."

"Oh no?" the otter grinned at the sight of Miru. "Here comes your next victim, Sister."

"Traitor," grinned the pine marten, who made no fight as the motherly hedgehog descended upon him with fresh salves and bandages.

"Alright," said Sister Grace once she had finished. "The two of you get some sleep. I'll wake you both up when dinner is ready. Pleasant dreams." And with that, the kindly hogwife was out the door.

Rorac and Miru shared a small laugh, and the otter gestured at one of the beds he made up - the very same bed that the pine marten slept in last winter.

"Here you are, mate. Better follow the Sister's orders; otherwise she'll force you to drink more tonic."

Miru laughed again (it felt so strange and pleasurable to be doing such a thing after all the events he went through), and made his way over to the bed, where he allowed himself to be tucked in. However, as Rorac began to turn away towards his own bed, the young marten took hold of his arm.

"Back to bein' all clingy, eh?" the otter said with a lopsided smile. Nevertheless, he climbed into bed alongside his little mate. He knew Miru was getting a little old for this, but, at the moment, that didn't matter so much.

Breathing deeply, the pine marten huddled up next to his Skipper, and noticed something over the otter's shoulder. Hanging on the corner of the headboard of the other bed, was slung what looked like the very same white cloth that had served the otter as a gag earlier.

"Why do you still have that?" Miru questioned, pointing at the cloth.

Glancing over his shoulder, Rorac waited a moment before replying. "A reminder."

The marten wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but he did have an idea or two.

Sighing, Miru embraced his Skipper and said softly, "Don't ever leave me again, Skip."

Rorac smiled, kissed his little mate on the forehead, and said, "I won't ever have a reason to, mate."

* * *

The two creatures fell asleep, but not without a dream or two.

They each dreamt that two beasts stood at the foot of their bed: one a towering wildcat, the other a small squirrel. Both Miru and Rorac knew who each creature was... and yet they felt no longer felt fear or remorse for them. For Zurzak no longer looked like a ravaged, despairing monster, and the squirrel was no longer a starved, haggard shell of a thing. Instead, they were clean, full, handsome, care-for; they looked peaceful, happy, and they both nodded with warm smiles towards the marten and otter, who smiled and nodded back, before the cat and squirrel faded away into nothingness. Yet even as they did, a single voice that seemed to belong to both animals spoke.

_"I'm with my family now."_

* * *

Miru smiled in his sleep and let out his deepest sigh. No longer would he fear Zurzak, or grieve over his past. All of that was behind him now, and ahead of him a clean slate.

Rorac, however, was doomed to have one last nightmare...

The otter looked down at Miru lying next to him... only it wasn't Miru. It was Rasouk...

* * *

Meanwhile, hidden in the shadows of Mossflower, not knowing that he was looking up at the exact window where Rorac was, stood Rasouk, the real Rasouk.

The fox could have stood there for a few minutes, a few hours, or even a few seasons. But eventually, he blew a farewell kiss to the closest thing to a father he ever got, and gathered up his belongings, his lantern, cloak, blankets and trinkets, and trotted off into woods, headed south, like he originally planned.

Never to be seen in Mossflower again.


End file.
